


Just A Little Taste of Where I Came From

by torakowalski



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: De-Aged Characters, Gen, M/M, handwavey magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Steve stares at Thor. Then down at the children. It isn't that he doesn't understand what Thor is saying; it's just that he's sure that isn't possible.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Are you saying that those kids are Coulson and Stark?" Natasha demands. Steve is so glad that someone other than him asked that question.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Thor nods encouragingly. "I am. Is that not a relief?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Um," Clint says. He sounds as though he's going to freak out any second. "No?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Little Taste of Where I Came From

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Just A Little Taste of Where I Came From (Art)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/501580) by [davincis_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/davincis_girl/pseuds/davincis_girl). 



> So here, at last, is my Avengers Reverse Big Bang fic! I saw davincis_girl's gorgeous [picture of baby Tony and Phil](http://i616.photobucket.com/albums/tt242/davincis_girl/lookup600copy.jpg) and couldn't resist signing up. And then I sent her the fic and she drew [Tony and Hulk](http://i616.photobucket.com/albums/tt242/davincis_girl/hulkandtonygohome600.jpg) as well because I am just that damn lucky. 
> 
> [Go here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/501580) to tell her how great she is!
> 
> With thanks to harborshore and 17pansies for alllll the betaing and to my poor twitter feed for putting up with me talking about this one endlessly. <3
> 
> Warning: includes a sick/potentially dying child, brief mentions of past torture.

“Why are you tapping?” Natasha asks, looking sideways at Steve. "Stop tapping."

Steve looks down at the fork in his hand and carefully stops beating it against the side of the empty bowl sitting on the table in front of him. 

“Sorry,” he says and puts the fork down. 

“Worried?” Clint asks from Steve’s other side. Steve doesn’t know why they’ve decided to bookend him but he’s sure they have reasons. 

"No," Steve says quickly, "I'm sure they're fine." Stark and Bruce are always fine; Steve's more worried about the mayhem they may be causing while _being_ fine. 

It’s been a few hours since the Alfheim ambassador led them away to show them some technology or other and they’re not back yet. Steve might just be a little concerned. Even if Stark and Bruce lost track of time, the ambassador should have brought them back for the official state dinner that the Alfheim queen is throwing in their honour.

Thor looks up from his empty plate and frowns. "Perhaps we should go and fetch them? It would not do to scorn the meal the Alfheim people have prepared for us."

Steve would accuse him of just wanting to get down to the business of eating, but Thor is actually very good at diplomacy – much better than any of the rest of them, except maybe Natasha – and since it was his father who set up the meeting, he has a particular interest in making a good impression here.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, half-rising. He stops when Natasha touches his arm lightly and jerks her head toward the high table, where Agent Coulson is sitting, next to Queen Alfdis. 

Coulson widens his eyes meaningfully when he sees that he's got Steve's attention. _Not yet_ , he says with the briefest shake of his head and Steve subsides.

Another uncomfortable few seconds later, they hear the sound of running feet. Thor's shoulders relax, obviously thinking the best, but Steve feels his gut tense, waiting to see who's coming toward them in such a hurry.

"See, my friends, there was no reason to fear - " Thor starts, just before the door crashes open and a woman in white robes comes running in. 

She drops to her knees in front of the Queen then bounces up immediately, stalking toward the Avengers' table. "You!" she snaps. "You and your people are no longer welcome here."

Steve suppresses a sigh. Of course. It was too much to expect Stark to be able to take part in a diplomatic inspection of other people’s technology without causing a scene, and Bruce is not nearly as good an influence on him as Steve secretly hoped he would be.

"Brigid?" the Queen demands, rising to her feet. "What do you mean? These warriors are our honoured guests."

"These _warriors_." Brigid spits the word. "Have defiled our most sacred room, Majesty. I will not have them here any longer."

"Defiled?" Clint murmurs. "Yep, that sounds like Stark."

"Shh," Steve hisses even though he privately agrees with Clint’s assessment. "Majesty," he says louder, but Coulson's already standing up, coming to stand between Brigid and the Queen. He bows carefully, exactly following the rules that Thor and his parents drilled into them before opening up the Bifrost to get them to Alfheim.

"My lady," he says, bowing again, "I don't know what's happened, but - "

"Defiled!" Brigid spits again. She seems to like that word. "Your so-called scientists entered the Vault. No one may enter the Vault without express permission from her Majesty. A permission that hasn't been granted in almost a decade and never to an outsider."

"Ah," Coulson says. He looks tired. Steve understands how he feels. "I'm afraid our scientists can be a little impetuous yes, but - "

"No." The Queen steps forward. "Agent Coulson, I'm sorry, but Brigid is right. Unauthorised entry into the Vault is a serious matter."

"Of course." Coulson nods. "I hope you'll accept our apologies and that our visit here can continue but - "

"Agent Coulson," the Queen interrupts, "I'm afraid you don't understand. Unauthorised entry into the Vault is a serious offence. I must ask you to hand over your scientists to our judicial system."

Steve's head snaps around at that and he finds the others staring back at him. Judicial system sounds bad. He'd expected this would mean the untimely end to their diplomatic visit to Alfheim, but not the untimely end to Stark and Bruce's lives. Not, he suspects, that they'd stand much chance of executing Bruce.

Stark, however, is a different matter.

"Ma'am," he starts, leaning forward. Thor leans around Clint's back and pokes Steve meaningfully in the back. 

Steve stands up. "Ma'am," he repeats.

The Queen shakes her head. "I'm sorry Captain, everyone." She nods around the room. The Alfheimians present are starting to whisper rapidly. "These are our laws. A court will convene in thirty minutes. I will see you then."

She sweeps from the room with a final nod, dragging Brigid along with her, still talking quietly and rapidly.

"Shit," Clint says with feeling as soon as the door crashes closed behind them. He catches Coulson's eye and tries a smile. "Good first mission back, sir?"

Coulson sighs. "Everything I was hoping for, Barton," he assures him wryly.

***

They're led to an ante-room not long after where they find Bruce and Stark already waiting for them. It's a comfortable room, hardly a jail cell, but Bruce, at least, doesn't look comfortable. He's sitting perched on the edge of a wide, soft-looking sofa, hands curled around his kneecaps, muttering to himself under his breath.

Stark, of course, is slouched back in the opposite chair, one ankle resting on a knee as though he hasn't got a care in the world. Steve thinks he might be humming.

"What the hell?" Steve demands, storming over to stand between them so he can include them both in his disappointed stare. "What _happened_?"

Stark shrugs. "They told us to look around, we looked around."

"Through three locked doors and two security points," Bruce mutters.

Stark sticks his tongue out at him and Steve feels his already-fractured calm shatter. "Stark!" he snaps. "Can’t you take anything seriously? This is a real problem."

"Eh." Stark waves a hand. "They'll rant and rave a bit, sure, but what are they going to do? They invited us here because we're the Mighty Warriors of Midgard; they're not going to fuck up their relationship with SHIELD by  
stringing us up or whatever."

Steve stares at him for a minute then turns away. "I can't talk to him, sir," he tells Coulson apologetically. 

Coulson shakes his head. "I never can," he agrees. Up close, Steve can see that he's definitely looking tired, a little grey around the mouth. 

This mission wasn't supposed to be stressful; Steve isn't sure the SHIELD doctors would have cleared Coulson to come with them if they'd known he was going to be doing more than eating dinner and making nice.

"It's going to be fine," Stark repeats. Steve can't tell if he means that or not. Steve bets that he just doesn't think anything can touch him.

"It probably isn’t," Bruce mutters.

Steve looks over at Thor who's talking quietly to Natasha. They both look grim. Steve has never known anything to happen that's caused Thor to look that grim before, not even when they were facing thousands of murderous aliens together; he doesn't think that's a good sign.

"Coulson," Natasha says sharply after another minute and Coulson steps over to them, leaning in. After a second, Clint slips into the huddle, hand on Coulson's shoulder while he leans in.

Steve should probably be over there too, listening to whatever Thor has to say. Instead, he sits next to Bruce and bumps their knees together awkwardly. "You doing okay?" he asks.

"Um." Bruce tap-taps his fingers. "If anyone tries to execute me, the Other Guy probably won't like that."

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "For once, I wouldn't be sorry to see him."

Bruce smiles carefully. "I won’t be sorry not to die, no, but I don't want to hurt anyone."

Steve doesn't tell him that he's a good man, because Steve never knows what to do with the anger he feels when people say that to him and he doesn’t know if Bruce feels the same. Instead, he pats Bruce on the shoulder and decides it's time to be a leader and find out what inside information Thor is giving out. If it's bad news, they'll come up with a Plan B. Steve's good at that.

Before he can do more than stand up, however, the door opens and the Queen herself steps inside.

"Majesty," Thor says, standing up straight. Steve echoes him even though it's the last thing he wants to do.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she says, eyes sweeping around the room. "The jury have made their decision."

"Wait, what?" Steve demands. "They haven't had a chance to defend themselves."

The Queen frowns at him. "No," she says slowly as though she doesn't understand his point. "The sentence will be carried out at first light."

Coulson steps forward. "What's the sentence?" he asks.

For the first time, the Queen looks less than certain. "There's still some debate around the most fitting punishment." She smiles, just barely. "In the spirit of our newfound friendship, I can assure you that they will survive."

"I'm sorry," Coulson says before Steve can, "but I don't find that even slightly reassuring."

The Queen inclines her head. "We will come for Dr Banner and Mr Stark in the morning. Please do make yourselves comfortable for the night."

She turns and strides out, long cloak and long hair disappearing around the edge of the door before anyone can decide on the best way to stop her. The door closes with a soft click followed by the much louder and more ominous clang of a heavy-sounding lock. 

"Well, _I'm_ reassured," Stark says. "Really, Phil, you need to lighten up. They're not gonna kills us, just like I said."

"There are a hell of a lot of things they can do to you that won't involve _killing_ you," Steve says, rounding on him. He can’t believe Stark doesn't realise he's going to be tortured or that he's going to be the reason that _Bruce_ is tortured.

"Do you honestly think I don't know that?" Stark snaps, sitting up straight for a second before he realises what he's doing and slouches again.

Steve almost, _almost_ feels guilty. It’s true that Stark has been tortured before, but you would have thought that'd make him more careful in the future, not less.

"Thor," Coulson says suddenly. "You understand these people's customs, don't you?"

"I… have some understanding," Thor agrees. "Our mother made sure we would not offend our allies through ignorance. Although I must confess that Loki paid greater attention to those lessons than I."

"Well, sure," Clint mutters, "he was probably plotting a coup at the time."

"Barton," Coulson says firmly when Thor's expression flickers somewhere between hurt and annoyed. "Will you sit down and shut up, please. Thor, we need to work out a way around this."

"Honest, Coulson, it's fine," Stark protests. He's pulled out his cell phone and is fiddling with the screen even though even he can’t possibly have signal on another planet. (Steve rarely has signal outside Midtown, which Clint says is his own fault for picking AT&T but Steve liked their logo and it's not like he really has anyone he can ask for advice about stupid things like that. Not without putting up with endless grandpa jokes, anyway.)

"You, shut up," Coulson tells him. "You too, Barton."

Clint makes exaggeratedly wide eyes at Coulson's back. "I didn't say a word, sir." 

Coulson doesn't turn around, just folds down somewhat stiffly beside Thor and pulls an electronic tablet out of his jacket pocket, setting it across his knees as though he's going to take notes on whatever Thor tells him.

"You were going to suggest breaking out of here," Coulson tells Clint easily. "That would be a mistake considering we're not even in the right dimension right now. We have no safehouses, no evac plan, no nothing."

Clint opens his mouth then closes it. He sinks back against the wall beside Natasha, looking dejected. She pats his arm and then nods sharply toward Coulson's back.

Clint shakes his head then shakes it firmer when Natasha frowns at him.

Steve looks away. He never understands their silent conversations and watching them always makes him miss Bucky even more fiercely than normal.

He has no idea what time it is back home, but he's exhausted suddenly. He trusts in Coulson's diplomacy skills, much more than he does his own, but doing nothing doesn't sit right in his brain.

"Sorry," Bruce says softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Steve shrugs. It's not okay but he also suspects it's mostly not Bruce's fault. "Will you teach me that yoga thing you do?" he asks. It's going to be a long night and both he and Bruce could do with being calm for whatever the morning brings.

***

As promised, the Queen and a bunch of her equerries arrive just after dawn. The Queen has changed into heavy black robes, which Steve doesn’t think is a good sign. No one looks as though they slept, which is fair since none of Steve's team did either. 

"We have to stop this," Steve mutters to Coulson, scanning for escape routes and weak links while the Queen and her court are arranging themselves around the room.

Coulson shakes his head. “We’re on their planet, we have to abide by their rules unless we’re prepared to start a war,” Coulson says tiredly. Steve would feel angrier with the bureaucracy of that sentence if he didn’t know that Coulson's tired because he was up all night trying to find a loophole. 

“Hey, they said no death or permanent injury, right?” Bruce says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but Steve can see the worry he’s trying to hide.

"The sentence has been decided," the Queen says formally. "Dr Banner, Mr Stark."

"Wait," Stark says, standing up and surprising Steve who'd assumed he'd fallen into some kind of blasé coma. "It was my idea to investigate your damn Vault. There's no need to take any of this out of Bruce."

"Tony," Bruce protests. "I don't - "

Stark makes a cutting motion through the air at him. "Trust me," he says, still talking to the Queen. "You don't want to punish him. You won't like him when he's… what, tortured?"

The Queen looks at him levelly. "Very well," she says mildly. "We are aware of Dr Banner's unique physiology. We will accept a volunteer to take his place."

"I vol-" Steve doesn't even get the second syllable all the way out before Coulson is stepping forward. 

“I’m leading this expedition,” he says, “Dr Banner is my responsibility so I accept his punishment.”

“What the hell?” Steve asks, stepping up to his side. It’s lost in the general movement of everyone doing the same so it’s almost as though no one has moved at all.

The Queen smiles at Coulson. It's a calculating smile but not necessarily a cruel one. "That is good enough for me," she agrees.

Coulson nods smartly, back straight. Steve doesn't know him as well as he'd like to, not even now he's been given a second chance to learn, but he watched Coulson fight his way through physiotherapy and back to work and he knows that this is Coulson's superpower, this powerful streak of bravery that he hides under suits and regulations.

“Phil,” Clint says and Coulson falters for the first time. It’s barely noticeable but Steve sees it. Clint shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“It’ll be fine,” Coulson says quietly. He reaches out and touches the back of Clint's hand, a barely there brush of fingertips that Steve realises too late that he should have looked away from.

"Are you ready?" the Queen asks.

Stark and Coulson glance at each other. "Yeah, sure," Stark says. "Bring it on."

***

"This isn't right," Natasha says into the silence that follows. "We shouldn't have let them be taken." 

"It was Coulson's decision," Steve says heavily even though he agrees, he definitely agrees. His skin is crawling with the wrongness of having just let two of his soldiers walk _into_ torture. Or worse. 

"Bullshit," Clint snaps but doesn't say anything else, sinking down onto the floor beside Thor and closing his eyes. Steve’s seen him do that before, close his eyes and go into his own head, like that’ll take him away from the situation at hand.

"Captain Rogers is correct," Thor says firmly. "We are already risking war with Alfheim by disobeying their sacred rules, to fight them in this would almost guarantee it."

"Are they so powerful?" Steve asks. Not that he's considering going to war for two men. Well, he's considering it. He'd do it. But he won't risk the Earth for it. 

"Yes," Thor says simply and that's that. Steve’s never seen Thor run or flinch from a fight, not even when he was facing the Hulk. It makes him wonder exactly how powerful the Alfheim must be.

For a long time, there's nothing but silence. 

If he's honest, he wasn't expecting silence; he was braced for screams. Silence ought to be better, but Steve’s not sure how to react.

He’s never been a fan of silence. A long time ago, silence meant that he couldn't hear his mother's rattling, uneven breathing anymore and, more recently, it meant the inescapable endlessness of the ice.

He doesn't realise he's straining his ears until he picks up a faint sound, growing louder as he listens. "What's that?" he asks, sitting up straighter.

“Is that crying?” Bruce asks, sounding horrified. Steve feels his heart freeze cold with dread. He can’t think of one thing horrific enough to make either Coulson or Stark cry.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Natasha says, springing up from her chair and marching to the door. 

She only gets to give one good, satisfying-looking kick to the handle before it’s opened from the outside and one of the equerries from earlier comes walking in. 

He’s leading two little boys, which is odd enough that it stops Natasha in her tracks. He’s holding their hands but they don’t look happy about it, straining against his grip. They’re both dark haired and very young, no more than four or five. Their clothes are falling off them and – 

Steve stares at the adult sized t-shirt that the smaller of the two boys is wearing. It’s familiar. In fact, it’s _very_ familiar.

“Why is that kid wearing Tony’s shirt?” Bruce asks, perfectly echoing Steve’s thoughts.

“Why is the other one wearing Coulson’s tie?” Clint counters, springing up. “What have you done with them?” he snaps at the equerry.

Steve looks away from the kid in Stark’s shirt and realises that Clint’s right; the other boy is wearing a long white shirt and no pants; Coulson’s thin black tie looks completely ridiculous hanging down to his knees.

"Oh," Thor says slowly, "I see." He starts to smile. "That is the punishment? Why did you not say?"

The equerry shrugs. "Tradition," he says. He looks relieved that Thor understands. Steve wishes that _he_ understood.

"Thor?" he asks, turning to him.

Thor's smile widens. "All is well, Captain," he says, striding forward. "Our friends are unharmed. They are merely - " He waves his hands at the children. "Well, you can see for yourself."

Steve stares at Thor. Then down at the children. It isn't that he doesn't understand what Thor is saying; it's just that he's sure that isn't possible.

"Are you saying that those kids are Coulson and Stark?" Natasha demands. Steve is so glad that someone other than him asked that question.

Thor nods encouragingly. "I am. Is that not a relief?"

"Um," Clint says. He sounds as though he's going to freak out any second. "No?"

The kids are staring up at them, looking from one to the other of them with wide, confused eyes. The one who might be Coulson has damp patches on his cheeks and other one keeps sniffling then pretending he isn't.

"Tony?" Steve asks cautiously, leaning forward. Apparently he didn't sound cautious enough because the kid sticks his chin up and folds his arms tightly, bony elbows sticking out from his too-big sleeves.

"I don't know who you are," he says. His voice is tiny but very firm. "How do you know my name?"

Steve looks up at the others, feeling closer to panic than he's comfortable with. Natasha looks horrified; Clint is just staring at the child who must be Coulson.

"I know your dad," Steve tries. "I know Howard."

Tony doesn't look reassured. "Everyone knows my dad," he mutters. He turns his glare up at the equerry. "Let go of me."

The equerry does so, looking glad, and Tony scuttles a couple of steps away from them all quickly. Coulson stays where he is, staring up at Steve.

"Hey there," Steve tries because if this really is Coulson then he's got to be easier to deal with than a miniaturised Stark. "Phil?"

"Phillip," he says in a barely-there voice, still staring at Steve, unblinking. His cheeks go pink. "But. You can call me Phil if you want to."

Natasha laughs, sounding strangled about it. " _Chyort_. Oh yeah, that's definitely him."

Steve feels himself blush in sympathy with Phil. He never knows how to react to the disbelieving way that the adult Coulson stares at him sometimes, and it's somehow even weirder to see it on the face of a little kid. 

"I'm Steve," Steve tries, but it's no good. He's in full uniform - even if it's horrifically crumpled right now - Phil definitely knows who else he is.

Phil takes two determined steps closer and tugs carefully on Steve's sleeve. “Are you really Captain America?” he whispers, still tugging.

Steve doesn’t know what to do other than kneel down beside him. “I am,” he says seriously.

Tony rolls his eyes and huffs, deigning to come close enough to lean around Steve’s leg to poke Coulson’s arm. “Of course he’s not,” he scoffs, “no one knows where Captain America is.”

Phil's blue eyes widen and he folds his arms across his chest, glaring down at where Stark poked him. “That’s not true,” he protests. He sounds like he’s trying not to sound upset and Steve sighs.

“Thor,” he says, without raising his voice, “can you pass me my shield?”

The careful way that Thor handles the shield would make Steve smile under any other circumstances. He appreciates the thought, but not even Thor’s hammer could make a dent in it, so he doubts Thor can scratch it through overzealous passing.

“Here,” Steve says, propping the shield up against his knees so it’s facing the kids. “If I weren’t Captain American, how could I have his shield?”

“Oh wow,” Phil breathes, holding out his hand then snatching it back.

“You can touch,” Steve tells him so Phil does, eyes huge and shining, tiny fingers careful and reverent.

Clint makes a rough noise in his throat. “I’m going to see if I can find out what the fuck's going on,” he says, not looking at anyone, and walks out.

Natasha looks after him, swears again, and follows him out the room.

***

“A month?” Steve asks, staring at Clint in horror. “You can’t be serious.” 

Clint's mouth twitches slightly into that smile-not-a-smile he often wears when things are going to hell. 

"That's what they told us," Natasha agrees, folding her arms and stepping up beside Clint. She tips her head. "And I really doubt they were lying." Steve decides not to ask exactly how they got their information. “Apparently it’s a standard punishment for ‘immature behaviour."

Clint scoffs. “Which is bullshit because Coulson has never been immature in his life. Hell, he isn’t immature now and he’s five.”

“Six, I think,” Bruce says thoughtfully. He’s been studying both the children quizzically where they’re playing separately in the other half of the room. “Tony's a year or so younger, maybe.”

Steve does some quick mental math. “That makes sense. Stark’s forty-two, right, and Coulson is, what, fifty?”

“Forty-eight,” Clint says then shrugs when Steve looks at him, about to say _thank you_ for the information until he notices all the keep-away vibes Clint is giving off.

“Is this very unusual on your world?” Thor asks, standing next to Bruce to watch the kids alongside him. “I know that magic is less common on Earth, but has this never happened before?”

He has the same look on his face that Stark gets – got? – when Steve once again reminds him that there were no cell phones in the 1940s, like he understands intellectually, but is very sad for them all the same.

“Does it happen a lot on Asgard?” Steve asks, curious.

“Well.” Thor shrugs. “Growing up with my brother, it is sometimes hard to define what was usual for us and what was usual on our world. But, yes, Loki often changed age, shape, and gender.”

“Gender?” Bruce asks, looking up. “How does that work, does he—“

“Who cares,” Clint snaps. “Let’s not drag Loki into this shit show of a situation and make it even worse.”

"It is too bad he cannot be trusted to help,” Thor agrees softly.

Clint stares at him but it's Natasha who says, "Tell me you're joking."

Thor looks back at them steadily. "Loki understands magic. If there's a way to get Phil and Tony back without waiting a month - "

"No," Clint says firmly. He folds his arms. "No," he repeats when Thor opens his mouth, presumably to protest. "You're not letting Loki anywhere near Coulson, okay?"

His mouth is fixed, stubborn, but his eyes look terrified.

"Okay," Steve echoes, nodding slowly. "All right." He rubs his hands together, trying to think of something reassuring to say. He's the team leader; he needs to be prepared to lead the team in the face of anything. Even this. "Anyone else got any ideas?"

"I could speak to my mother," Thor offers. "She knows almost as much magic as Loki and she is much more likely to help us." He smiles slightly. "Without attempting to kill us."

"Always a plus," Steve agrees and smiles back encouragingly.

“Um, guys,” Bruce says, turning around from where he's been watching Phil and Tony. “I think there’s about to be a meltdown.”

Steve bounds over to him, shouldering his way carefully between him and Thor to see what's happening. 

Tony is standing on one side of the room, what looks like a computer tablet clutched in his hand. It's split down the middle, case cracked, and he's staring down at it like the end of the world.

From the other side of the room, Phil is saying something but Steve can't hear what. He looks tentative but he takes a step forward, reaching out to touch Tony's arm. Tony throws the broken tablet at him and Steve decides now's the time to interrupt.

"Stay here," he says and strides forward. Once he reaches the kids, he doesn't know why he told the others not to follow him. They all listened though, and so he finds himself facing a furiously angry miniature Tony Stark and a startled and hurt Phil Coulson alone.

"Tony!" Steve snaps. His tone reminds him of Bucky's mom when they were disobedient enough to really shock her. "What are you doing?"

Tony drops down to sit on the floor, somehow managing to look petulant with his legs and arms crossed. 

Steve ignores him for now. He isn't comfortable with Stark as an adult, let alone as a child, so he decides to deal with Phil first.

"Are you okay?" he asks, gently tugging Phil's hand away from his cheek.

There's a dark pink mark on his cheek but Phil still nods. "I'm okay," he promises, lower lip wobbling. "I'm fine."

Steve doesn't think, just reaches out and tugs Phil into his side, hand firm on Phil's narrow shoulder. He's seen fathers treat their sons that way and Phil certainly isn't his son, but Steve doesn't know what else to do.

"Tony, you need to apologise," he says firmly. "Phil was trying to make you feel better."

"He's stupid," Tony mutters. 

Steve sighs. He spent a lot of the war kissing babies but he has no idea how to deal with kids this age. Especially not kids this age who are also Tony Stark.

"That isn't nice," he settles on even though he can hear the adult Stark in his head, mocking him for it. "You wouldn't treat your friends this way, would you?"

"I don't have friends," Tony says, rolling his eyes. "I have bodyguards."

Steve has no idea what to say to that. He watches Phil open his mouth then close it again. "You don't have friends because you're mean," he finally settles on.

"I don't have friends because they're stupid," Tony snaps back. He sticks his tongue out at Phil.

After a moment's hesitation, Phil's tongue comes out too.

Steve rubs his face and swallows back a groan. This is going to be a long month.

***

Now that punishment has been successfully meted out, the Queen seems perfectly happy to open the Bifrost. 

Steve isn't sure if that's a good thing or not; he can't decide if they should take Phil and Tony back to Earth where they might be able to fix them quicker, or keep them here, where the Alfheimians can be on call if anything goes wrong.

Luckily, Steve doesn't have to make that decision alone, because Fury comes striding onto Alfheim as soon as he gets their distress call.

He stops when he sees Phil and Tony and stares, closing his eyes briefly. 

"Motherfucker," he sighs and then looks genuinely startled when Steve can't help but say, "Please don't swear in front of the children, sir."

"Captain Steve?" Phil asks, sliding close to Steve. He's holding onto Tony's wrist, tugging him along to stand behind Steve.

Tony looks put out at being dragged around but he doesn't actually object. Steve guesses that Fury, in his heavy black coat and angry eyepatch, cuts a pretty damn imposing figure when you're three and a half feet tall.

"It's okay," Steve tells them. He seems to be saying that a lot lately. He feels a hand clutch at the knee of his pants but doesn't look down to see whose it is. Instead he meets Fury's eye and raises his eyebrows. “What should we do, sir?”

"You can’t take them back to earth like this, it’ll be chaos.” Fury sighs. “I'll have your things shipped out here and get someone to buy some kid-sized clothes," He shakes his head. "Seriously, this was supposed to be an easy mission."

"We're still welcome on Alfheim," Natasha offers with a shrug. "It's better than the Tallinn mission."

"Or the Marrakech assignment," Clint adds. 

Fury nods thoughtfully. "Thank you both. You've successfully reminded me why letting the two of you go anywhere with Coulson is a mistake."

Natasha rolls her eyes and Clint looks a bit hurt for a split-second. Steve has to remember to reassure them later that Fury might technically be in charge of them, but Steve won’t let him reassign Coulson to anyone else.

Phil pokes Steve in the thigh at the mention of his name.

"Not you," Steve says automatically, only realising after he's said that that's obviously a lie. At this age, Phil is strangely guileless and Steve finds it hard to think of him as Agent Coulson, much harder than it is to reconcile Tony with Stark.

Fury half-smiles at Phil. It's an unnerving expression to Steve but Phil just blinks. 

"Right." Fury clears his throat. "Dr Banner, I want you back at SHIELD trying to work out a way to reverse this quicker. Thor, you’ll talk to your parents?"

Thor salutes with a clenched fist. Bruce shrugs, looking uncertainly toward Tony. He’s by far the best at dealing Tony as a child, just like he’s the best at getting through to Tony as an adult, but he also has the best chance at finding a solution to their current situation. So he has to go, no matter how much Steve wants him to stay. 

"I'll go with you, Bruce," Natasha says, “Someone needs to let Pepper know what’s going on.” She doesn't make it a question and no one objects even though Clint doesn't look happy.

"Clint?" Steve asks. "You'll stay with me, right?"

"I." Clint frowns. "I'm gonna be less than no help, Cap."

"I'm sure that's not true," Steve tells him. He's seen the way Clint looks at Phil (and the way that he looked at Coulson _before_ he was six years old) and he knows that Clint needs to be here.

"Good, that's settled then." Fury claps his hands together. "I'm leaving, call me if you need anything." He looks at the kids again and shakes his head. "Too fucking weird," he decides before walking off.

Bruce raises his eyebrows then stands up. "Do you think we're just supposed to follow him?" he asks Natasha.

Natasha smiles at him. "We're supposed to beat him to the Bifrost," she tells him. She holds out her hand, wrapping it around his wrist. "Come on, I know a shortcut."

"Um." Bruce looks down at her hand around his wrist and uses his other hand to gather together all his stuff. "Sure. Goodbye everyone, be good." He grins at Tony, suddenly. "You be good for the Captain."

Tony smiles, ducking his head. It's amazing how different he looks without the surly frown on his face. "No," he says, but it's sweeter than anything else Steve has heard him say today. 

"Bye?" Phil says, waving and Natasha's face does something complicated that Steve still doesn't know her well enough to parse.

"Take care of him," she tells Clint, low and firm like an order and then she and Bruce are gone.

Thor pats Steve on the shoulder. "I too must be going," he declares and then is, in fact, gone.

Steve blinks, looks at the kids who are interacting without bickering for the first time, and then over at Clint.

He wants to ask _What now?_ but Clint looks panicked and Steve doesn't want him to know that Steve is just as lost.

"All right," Steve says firmly. He takes hold of one of each of their shoulders. "Who wants to pick a bedroom?"

***

“Where’s Jarvis?” Tony asks, rubbing his eye on his drawn up knees. 

It's the middle of the evening and Steve has already run out of things to entertain the kids with. Luckily, they're getting kind of droopy so he's hoping they'll want to go to bed soon.

“JARVIS?” Steve asks, surprised. He’d gotten the impression that Tony was the one who built JARVIS, not Howard, and he’s sure that even Tony wasn’t brilliant enough to manage that before he was five years old.

Tony nods. “He normally looks after me when Mommy and Dad can’t. Is he coming to get me soon? I’m tired.”

Okay, not the AI, Steve thinks. Did Tony name JARVIS after an actual person? He looks up at Clint, who's curled up strategically in the opposite window, keeping a close eye on the castle’s central quad. Clint shrugs. 

“We’re kind of far away from home right now,” Steve hedges. “You don’t mind staying here with us, do you? We picked you out a room, remember?”

Tony tips his head, squinting. “For how long?”

 _Less than a month_ , Steve prays, _please, God, let it be less than a month_. “Not too long. Do you miss your mom?” Come to think of it, Tony hasn't asked for his parents once, unlike Phil. 

Tony shrugs. “No?” he says, flicking his eyes up at Steve distrustfully. Something about Tony feeling suspicious that someone thinks he might miss his mother makes Steve desperately sad.

***

Even Steve falls asleep easily that evening. Steve hasn't needed a lot of sleep since the serum, but apparently looking after a couple of kids for most of the day is more exhausting than fighting Nazis.

He wakes with a start in the dead of night, listening carefully to see what woke him.

He can hear someone breathing and he's already reaching for the pistol on his nightstand before he registers that the breathing is too fast and too loud for a would-be assassin.

Reaching over, Steve activates the odd glowing light beside the bed that serves as the Alfheimian version of a night-light and squints through the dark. Phil is sitting on the end of his bed, watching him sleep.

“Hi?” Steve asks, trying not to sound too startled. Phil has a very focused stare.

Phil doesn’t say anything. He’s wearing a hoodie that’s far too big for him, half his face buried in the folds of the collar. All day, Phil has given the impression of being pretty mature for his age. Right now, though, he looks genuinely, heartbreakingly young.

“Phil?” Steve asks gently, moving around to sit up and move closer to him. “Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?”

Phil shakes his head. “I can’t sleep,” he says. His voice sounds thin and, even in the dim light, it’s easy to see that his eyelashes are clumped together in damp, dark spikes.

Steve would have no problem with giving Phil a hug right now, but even at six years , Phil is very careful and staid; Steve doesn’t think he’d appreciate it very much.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Phil asks, looking at Steve over the top of his knees. “That’s why Tony and me are here?”

“Aren’t you having a good time with us?” Steve asks. He asked Tony that a few times this afternoon, just to check that he wasn't traumatising them in any way, and Tony had grudgingly admitted that he wasn’t having a terrible time. But Phil just gives him a Look and it’s never been more obvious that there’s a big difference between four and six.

“I miss my mom,” Phil says quietly. “Is she okay?”

“Your mom?” Steve asks, stalling. “Why wouldn't she be?”

Phil bites his bottom lip. “She does secret things,” he whispers. “Daddy cries sometimes when she goes away. Don’t tell.”

Steve wonders if Phil’s mom worked for SHIELD, if SHIELD even existed in the 1960s when Phil was a kid. 

“Of course I won’t tell,” Steve says grandly, “I’m Captain America.”

Phil smiles, looking a little happier. “My mom’s okay?”

“You being here has nothing to do with your mom,” Steve promises. It is, after all, perfectly true. "You and Tony are just here because… because." He stops. He really doesn't want to lie to anyone. 

"Have we been kidnapped by Baron Von Struker?" Phil asks, dropping his voice into a not-very-successful whisper.

"Who?" Steve asks. A few barons have kidnapped him in his time, but not that one, as far as he knows.

Phil sits up straight, worries apparently put to one side for now. "You fight him sometimes," he tells Steve. "I read about it."

"Oh, right." One day, Steve is going to have to make himself read all the comic books that were written about him while he was iced. Not quite yet though; it's still too strange to think about his fictional self living on while Steve himself lost decades. 

He decides that he's going to have to trust Phil with part of the truth. "No, no one's kidnapped us. What happened was that a couple of the guys on my team - "

"The Avengers?" Phil cuts in.

Steve grins. "The Avengers," he agrees solemnly. "Two of our scientists got a little overenthusiastic and touched some things they shouldn't have. So we have to stay here until the people who live here decide to forgive us."

Phil frowns. "Did they break anything?" he asks.

Steve shakes his head. "No."

"Huh." Phil chews on his lower lip for a minute, thinking. "That's not fair, then. If they didn't break anything and they didn't _mean_ to." He leans forward, looking at Steve seriously. "Do you want me to tell them that they're not being fair?"

Steve has a lot of experience keeping a straight face in difficult situations. Right now, he's too busy being unexpectedly charmed to even think of laughing at the thought of Phil marching up to the very formal people of Alfheim and telling them off. 

"Maybe tomorrow," he tells Phil. He scoots back in bed and pats the space on his right. "How about, right now, you come lie down and tell me about Baron Von Whatsit."

"Struker," Phil says. He crawls up the bed and only hesitates briefly before climbing into bed beside Steve and rolling over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. "Do you want me to tell you how you first met him?"

Steve folds his hands behind his head and looks up at the ceiling. "Sure."

***

"Captain Steve?" Steve hears and blinks himself awake, slower than he normally does. He’s exhausted, even more than normal, and for a second he can’t work out why. 

Yesterday comes crashing back in when he opens his eyes and sees Phil, kneeling on the bed and staring down at him with narrowed, worried eyes.

Distantly, Steve can hear the memory of a yell echoing in his ears and realises that he must have been yelling in his sleep. That happens more often than not.

"Sorry," he says, sitting up and rubbing his face. His head feels heavy but he can't remember the last time he woke up feeling refreshed and he's learned to shake it off by now. "Did I wake you up?"

Phil shakes his head quickly, but he's wide-eyed and still flushed with sleep so Steve suspects he's just lying to be nice.

"I have bad dreams sometimes," Steve confesses, the first time he's said it out loud. "But I'm fine."

"Yeah?" Phil asks. "My dad does too. He used to be a soldier."

It's light in the room and a quick glance his wristwatch shows Steve that it's nearly six a.m.

"Do you want breakfast?" he asks. "Or we can go back to sleep, if you want?"

"Breakfast, please," Phil says immediately. He hesitates then asks, "Tony, too?"

Steve thinks about the tired, probably grouchy, four-year old they'll end up with if they wake Stark up before he’s ready, and shakes his head. "No. How about we make it an adventure, just you and me?"

Phil lights up, which lets Steve push down on the feeling of guilt he gets for excluding Tony. He’ll do better later. Once he's found food.

***

They bump into an equerry as soon as they step out into the hall - Steve is fairly sure she was there guarding the room all night. He’s insulted to be put under guard on what was supposed to be a diplomatic mission, but at least they’re being obvious about it. It’s much easier to deal with surveillance when you know it’s there. 

"We were looking for breakfast?" Steve asks her, politely. He reaches for Phil's hand to make sure that he stays close to Steve's side.

"Of course," she says, bowing her head. "Follow me."

She leads them quickly down the corridor and around a corner, through a maze of twists and turns, which Steve automatically commits to memory just in case. 

"Through here," she says and bows them into a grand dining room where there’s a long central table laid with all sorts of breads and pastries and golden jugs of sweet-smelling juices.

The Queen isn't there and neither are any of dignitaries that Steve recognises, but dotted around the room are groups of finely dressed men and women, who look up and nod their heads when Steve and Phil come inside.

Phil squeezes Steve's hand. "I haven't brushed my teeth," he whispers, sounding worried.

Steve smiles at him even though he's feeling a little self-conscious about his sweatpants and lack of shower time. "Neither have I," he whispers back.

The foods on offer for breakfast are fantastic. Steve and Phil eat their way through a vast collection of unidentifiable food – sweet breads dripping with a sticky plum-like sauce; blue and purple striped meat smeared with some kind of garlic - and Steve discovers that the coffee on offer is strong enough that even he can feel the caffeine, while Phil more or less moves into a jug of peach-like juice.

They've been there nearly an hour, chatting about the things that interest six-year-olds - and, if Steve's honest with himself, twenty-six-year-olds as well - when Phil looks over at the door and sits up straight.

"Hi, Mr Barton," he calls, waving.

Clint's eyes land on Phil and Steve wouldn't have said he looked tense before, but Clint’s shoulders definitely unclench when he sees Phil. 

"Hey," he says to Steve, coming over to their table. "Captain." He takes a slow breath. "Man, can you leave a note next time you take one of the kids out of their room?"

"Sorry," Steve says automatically, feeling guilty when he realises he didn't even think about how worried Clint would be to find one of the kids gone. "Phil couldn't sleep so he bunked with me last night."

"Oh." Clint's face doesn't twitch. "Sure. Right." He steps back, eyes fixed on some point between them that doesn't land on either of them. "I'm going to go get Tony. He probably wants breakfast too."

There's nothing pointed about his tone but Steve still feels like it’s a criticism.

"Thank you," Steve calls after him but Clint doesn't react.

***

They’re not exactly prisoners, but they don’t have their run of the castle, so the four of them retreat back to their rooms after breakfast. 

Fury snuck a couple of comic books into the bag he sent over for Phil so Phil and Tony manage to sit down side-by-side to read it, without too much jostling for position. 

While they’re preoccupied, Clint sidles up to Steve.

"Look, man, I'm sorry about this morning," Clint says. He looks awkward and worried, a cloak of stress clinging to him and weighing him down.

Steve shakes his head quickly. "No, my fault. I should have thought. Of course you’d be worried about Phil." It’s none of Steve’s business what exactly Agent Coulson is to Clint, but it’s clear that there’s something important there.

"You know," Clint says, ignoring Steve’s comment, folding his arms casually, "I'm kind of surprised you're avoiding baby Stark. Isn't this the perfect opportunity to find out what makes him tick? Maybe then you could stop him being such a dick when he's an adult again."

"That's not the right way to talk about a teammate," Steve says. He’s not avoiding Tony. He’s not. That would be awful. 

Clint holds up his hands. "Hey," he says, "I like Stark. You're the one who doesn't."

"Of course I do," Steve protests. He does. Well, he likes parts of Stark; he just doesn't like the front Stark puts up between himself and the world. And, if he's honest with himself, he doesn't like the way Stark doesn't like him.

Clint tips his head over to where Tony is sitting in the middle of the room, drawing something complicated-looking with a handful of crayons. He doesn't say _prove it_ but his lack of expression more or less shouts it. 

Steve isn't someone who's easily swayed into doing things he doesn't want to do, but years and years with Bucky as a best friend left him basically unable to resist a dare.

"Hey, Tony?" he says, turning around sharply and heading over to him.

Across the room, Phil looks over at him, but doesn't say anything when Steve squats down next to Tony.

"Yes?" Tony asks, expression an exact mirror of the one his adult self wears when someone interrupts him mid-experiment.

"What are you doing?" Steve asks, nodding at the multi-coloured scribbles on the page.

Tony squirms around, going from sitting up to lying down on his stomach, elbow planted firmly on the edge of his paper and forearm blocking most of the page from Steve's view.

"Nothing," he says firmly.

Steve can't suppress a sigh. "Tony. I'm not going to stop you doing whatever you're doing, I'm just interested."

"You’re totally going to stop me," Tony tells him firmly, which makes Steve start to worry about exactly what it is that Tony's doing. “Captain America always stops people doing anything _fun_.”

"He's planning how to escape and run away back home," Phil says, still looking down at his comic book.

Tony's eyes go wide and betrayed. "Sneak!" he yells, standing up and making as though to stride over to confront Phil. 

Steve catches him around the middle before he can go anywhere and tugs him back down. "You want to run away?" he asks, worried.

Tony huffs and doesn't answer. 

"It was a stupid plan," Phil says into the silence. "I'm allowed to tattle when you try to make a _stupid_ plan."

"Why do you want to get away?" Steve asks, worrying that they've accidentally been doing something terrible to Tony or forgetting something vital or - 

Basically, he worries.

Tony doesn't answer.

"I ran away from home once," Steve offers.

Tony looks at him but doesn't ask.

"Ask him why," Phil hisses.

Tony glares at him.

"It doesn't matter why," Steve tells them, because he isn't going to explain about growing up dirt poor in the 1920s and honestly believing at age seven that he could go west and make the kind of fortune that would buy his mom the best doctors in the world. "It wasn't a lot of fun. It rained and I got cold and hungry and I missed my mom a lot."

"I'm not running away from my mom," Tony says haughtily. "I'm running away to - " He stops talking, actually claps a hand over his mouth. Steve tries not to smile; it’s nice to see that this Tony is far less artless and easier to read. Clint was right about that: Steve might learn something about adult Tony from all of this. 

Steve never met Maria Stark, although he'd vaguely been aware that Howard had someone who sent him letters that he pretended not to treasure. Steve wonders now what she was like. The only person he's ever truly believed Stark cares about is Pepper Potts, but this version of him definitely loves Maria too.

"Do you know where we are?" Steve asks, clutching at something that will be distracting but hopefully not too difficult for the kids to understand.

"Queen Alfdis's house?" Tony says, voice rising questioningly. He always answers Steve's questions like he thinks he's being tricked. At least Steve hopes that's what that tone means and not that Tony's expecting to be punished if he gets something wrong.

"Right." Steve stands up and pulls Tony up with him, lifting Tony up into his arms despite the way Tony tries to kick him in the stomach. "Come with me." He looks across at Phil and then at Clint. "You two, too."

Phil hops down immediately, looking up at Clint hopefully. Clint strides past him, getting the door for Phil and then keeping it open for Steve. He doesn't look at Phil though and Phil's shoulders slump.

Once Steve's achieved some kind of peace with Tony, he's going to fix whatever's wrong with Clint. One thing at a time, though.

There's a viewing window two floors up from their quarters. The Queen invited them to visit it but Steve's been avoiding it because he wasn't sure what the kids would make of suddenly finding all of space spread out before them (and also because it's essentially looking out over Heaven and he wasn't sure he was ready for too much of that) but he thinks now might be a good time.

Steve doesn't put Tony down during the walk up there, not trusting what Tony might get up to if Steve lets him walk around by himself. Phil trudges along beside them, Clint taking their six.

"Sure this is a good idea, Cap?" Clint asks.

Steve nods firmly. "I am," he says. He isn't, but he doesn't believe in lying to kids and he's running out of truthful reasons why they can't go home.

The viewing window turns out to take up three entire walls but Steve’s glad that the floor is opaque. He doesn’t exactly have a problem with heights but he does have a problem with endless open space below his feet.

"Oh wow," Tony yells, loud enough to make Steve's ears ring. He stops trying to squirm out of Steve's arms and reaches for the window instead, pressing his palm flat against the glass.

The sky outside is full of stars, none of them familiar to Steve, glittering as far as the eye can see.

"Are we on a spaceship?" Tony breathes.

"No," Steve tells him, "we're on another planet."

"How?" Tony asks, twisting around to look up at him. Steve knows that the wide-eyed amazement is just a carryover from looking out at the stars, not meant for Steve at all, but he still feels more connected to Tony in this moment than… Well, ever, actually.

Steve understands a lot of things, but the Bifrost is beyond him. "I'll get someone to explain it to you," he promises because Tony is smart and smart kids should always be encouraged.

"Cap," Clint says quietly beside him. When Steve looks over, he sees Clint looking worriedly at the top of Phil's head. 

Steve frowns at him, questioningly; Clint stares a bit more pointedly.

"What do you think, Phil?" Steve asks.

Phil doesn't answer. He has one small hand curled in a fist against the edge of the window, his shoulders hitched all the way up to his ears.

"We're really far away from home," Phil says in a small voice.

Tony kicks Steve in the stomach again, which Steve thinks is a bid for attention before he realises that Tony is squirming to get down.

Reluctantly, Steve sets him down on the floor and watches as Tony steps up beside Phil, awkwardly shuffling up to his side until his elbow is digging into Phil's ribs. 

"Do you know what happens to stars when they die?" he asks. 

"No?" Phil asks after a beat. "What happens?"

Tony sighs. "How can you not know? Everyone knows. I suppose I can teach you." There's something casual and slightly superior about his tone and it's a shock for Steve to realise that he _recognises_ that tone; he's heard adult Stark use it on him more than once. 

Steve never realised before that that's how Tony sounds when he's trying to be kind.

***

Tony and Phil start spending more time together after that. Steve isn't sure whether that's a good thing or not, considering they don't seem to be able to go more than five minutes without bickering about something. 

At the moment, Tony is attempting to steal Phil's watch. Steve isn't completely sure what Tony wants the watch for, but he thinks Tony may be trying to build some kind of robot. Or space shuttle. Or flying car.

With Tony, it's hard to tell.

"No, go away," Phil tells him, hands on his hips. "Tony, _stop it_."

Steve hears Clint try to muffle a laugh, badly, and rounds on him. "Aren’t you worried?" he hisses quietly. "They keep fighting."

Clint raises his eyebrows in a move that Steve has been taught means _well, duh_. (Of course, Natasha then had to teach him what “well, duh” means, but he thinks it's an excellent expression now that he knows it.)

"Cap," Clint says, still smiling. "That was the most normal thing I've seen since this whole bullshit mess started. Bickering is just how Coulson and Stark communicate; don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" Steve presses. He really is starting to worry that they're being terrible surrogate parents. “I know Agent Coulson can handle Stark, but like this, Tony’s really smart and Phil just seems much more… normal?”

“Phil's plenty smart," Clint tells him, fast enough that Steve automatically starts to apologise. "Anyway, look, I don’t think you need to worry about that too much.” 

Steve looks where Clint's pointing and finds that Phil has snuck around the back of the couch, where Tony is assembling and reassembling mechanical parts. As they watch, Phil slowly and carefully starts replacing each culled part with some of the weird spiky purple fruit that's very popular on Alfheim.

Tony reaches blindly for a part, exactly the same way that he does in his lab back home, and gets a fistful of soft, spiny fruit instead.

He yelps in surprised indignation and Phil laughs so hard that he falls out of his hiding place, both hands pressed over his mouth.

It's so unusual to see tiny, serious Phil giggling like a regular child that Steve finds himself chuckling too.

Clint laughs along with them both. “Baby fucking ninja,” he says, sounding fond.

Steve is torn about what he should do: on the one hand, that was hilarious but, on the other, he probably shouldn’t be encouraging an escalating war of attrition between the children. 

Still, at least they're keeping each other amused. That'll have to do for now.

***

Things start to settle down and Steve begins to think that maybe they can survive a month of this, even if SHIELD or Thor don't manage to find a cure. 

They've fallen into a routine of long breakfasts, finding ways to entertain the kids during daylight and then early bedtimes for everyone. It's probably the most peaceful time Steve has had in years.

Hell, it's probably the most peaceful time Steve has ever had.

"That's cool," Steve hears Phil say and finds himself automatically looking up. He's learned from experience to be wary of the things that Phil and Tony find cool.

He finds that Tony has stripped off his sweatshirt and is showing Phil his arc reactor. Seeing the soft blue light peeking through Tony's clothes always makes Steve do a double-take but seeing it now, shining out of the centre of his narrow chest, makes Steve's heart ache strangely.

"I know," Tony agrees proudly, puffing himself up.

Phil reaches out and taps the glass carefully. "What does it do?"

"Doctor Bruce says it makes my heart work," Tony tells him with a shrug. "Because I'm special. No one _else_ has one."

Phil frowns for a second then reaches down and grabs the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up. "I've got this," he says, pointing to his own chest.

Steve knows what he's going to see, but he still leans forward when Tony does. There's a thick knot of raised, dark pink skin centre left in Phil's chest, twisted and ugly and shockingly out of place on Phil's pale skin. 

If Steve was shocked when he first realised that Tony kept his arc reactor when he was de-aged, he's appalled that Phil's scar from Loki's staff shrunk down with him.

“Maybe I had one of those before?” Phil suggests, tracing a curious finger around his own sternum. 

“You mean like, maybe they took it out? D'you think they're going to take mine out?” Tony looks disappointed. “But it’s kind of cool.”

“My scar is cool too,” Phil protests. Steve can’t tell if he means it or is just trying to make Tony feel better, but Clint has obviously heard enough because he jumps up and stalks out.

Steve watches Tony and Phil watch him go. “He doesn’t like us,” Tony says matter-of-factly.

“I think he’s sad,” Phil whispers back. He looks up at Steve. “Is Clint sad?”

“No,” Steve assures him even though it might be a lie. “He’s missing one of his friends, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Phil sucks on his lip. “He could play with us?”

Behind him, Tony shakes his head quickly. “No, he can’t. Clint’s grumpy.”

“Clint’s cool,” Phil tells him firmly, sounding offended on Clint’s behalf. 

Steve hides his smile behind his hand. “I’ll tell him,” he promises. “But Clint likes being on his own, so don’t be offended if he doesn’t want to.”

Phil nods solemnly. 

Steve stands up. “I’m going to go check on him. Will you guys be all right by yourselves?”

“Obviously,” Tony huffs. 

“Obviously,” Steve echoes and rolls his eyes, making sure Phil can see. Phil laughs, then tries to look apologetic when Tony glares at him.

***

Steve finds Clint sitting out on one of the balconies, swinging his legs and looking completely blank. 

Clint doesn't say anything and Steve isn't sure where to start so he just sits down beside him, looking out into the nothingness surrounding the palace.

“I get that he’s a kid,” Clint says suddenly, “and that none of the shit that happened to our Phil means anything to him. I’m not a bastard and I’m not going to take that out on him, if that's what you're worried about.”

"I'm not.” He doesn't tell Clint that what Steve is worried about is _him_ , but that's the truth. “He says you can play with him and Tony if you want,” Steve offers.

Clint stares at him then, before he starts laughing helplessly, covering his face for a second. “Did he say it with big, solemn eyes and utter seriousness?”

Steve feels his own lips twitch. “He did.”

Clint’s smile is soft and fond. “He’s a good kid. I just, fuck. We just got him back, you know? I’m maybe not reacting too good to losing him again.”

It’s very easy for Steve to put himself in Clint’s shoes. Far too easy. “That’s definitely understandable,” he says. 

Clint shrugs. "It's shitty," he says firmly. He looks at Steve hard for a minute then raises his chin. "C'mon then, I know you want to ask about me and Phil. Have at it."

Steve would be lying if he said he didn't want to know but he shakes his head. "It's none of my business," he says firmly. "All I'm worried about is your relationship with Phil _right now_ and I think you need to start spending more time with him. He obviously thinks the world of you."

Clint blinks. "Why would he?" he asks, frowning. "I can barely make myself fucking speak to him."

Steve takes a stab at his own version of the _duh_ face. He isn't sure it fits this situation - he's still learning the finer points of having conversations via modern facial expressions - but something about it seems to work on Clint because he sighs.

"Fine," he says, "I'll stop being a bastard."

Steve reaches over and squeezes Clint's shoulder. "You're not being a bastard, Clint. You're hurting."

Clint's eyebrows go up. "Yeah?" he asks pointedly. "Look who's talking."

Steve doesn't have an answer for that, especially since he's hurting less right now - far away from Earth and thorough distracted - than at any point since he woke up in the ice.

***

It’s the middle of the night and sudden, frantic banging startles Steve awake. He runs to the door flat out, sidearm held low at his side. 

Clint's in his doorway, Phil clinging to his side. They both look panicked.

"What?" Steve asks, keeping hold of his gun just in case.

"Tony's sick," Clint tells him shortly. "Come on, they're taking him to some kind of doctor."

Steve's heart squeezes painfully. "Sick?" he asks, falling into step beside Clint, picking Phil up without thinking about it when his shorter legs can't keep pace. "What's wrong with him?"

"He said his chest hurt," Phil tells him. His voice is very steady like he's making a special effort to stay calm. Steve wishes he could say the same about himself. "He woke me up and said it really hurt."

Steve catches Clint's eye over the top of Phil's head.

"Reactor," Clint mouths at him, followed by, "Fuck."

Steve nods. He agrees with both parts. "Then what?" he prompts Phil. They've reached the stairs now, Steve blindly following the map of the palace that he's pieced together in his head.

"I tried to bring him to you but he fell over in the corridor and couldn't get up. Some people were going past and they said they'd take him to the doctor and I should go get you."

"Which you did," Clint says when Steve can't find anything to say. "You did good, didn't he, Captain?"

There's a very firm emphasis on the _Captain_ and, right, yes, Steve is Captain America; he isn't going to leap to worst-case scenarios. If there's something wrong with Tony, they're going to fix it.

"You did great," Steve promises. Then they finally reach the medical quarter and Steve isn't sure if he feels relieved or even more anxious than he was before.

The doctor on duty turns out to be a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman wearing matching shirt and pants that Steve half-suspects is the Alfheim version of pyjamas.

She looks very grim.

"Tell me about the mechanical thing in his chest," she orders as soon as Steve's introduced himself and Steve automatically jumps to obey.

When he’s finished, she says a word that the All Speak can’t translate but which Steve suspects is not positive. Or suitable for mixed company.

“Did no one think to check the glowing blue light before subjecting him to their ridiculous judicial system?” she mutters, mostly to herself, Steve thinks. “Why don’t they ever learn?” She looks back up at Steve. “The reactor shrunk down with your friend’s body but, as far as I can tell, the shards in his chest did not. This isn’t my area of expertise but I’m assuming that without a strong enough magnet, they’re starting to move toward his heart.”

Steve allows himself three seconds of blinding panic, and then forces himself to breathe it out, let it go.

"Okay," he says. "What do we do?"

"I’ll appeal to the council to see sense and put him back in his rightful body," the doctor tells him, "you go and reassure him that he's going to be fine."

Steve puts a hand on her arm, leaning in and lowering his voice so Phil won't overhear. " _Is_ he going to be fine?"

She's silent for a moment. "Not if he stays in this body," she says levelly. 

Steve's fingers go numb and he doesn't stop her leaving this time.

"Cap?" Phil asks quietly. Steve doesn't know what to say so he doesn't say anything at all. Phil doesn't ask again, just leans in and presses his face against Steve's shoulder.

"Hey," Clint says quietly, walking back down the corridor toward them. Steve hadn't even noticed him leave. "Tony's in a room down this way. The nurse says he's asking for you."

Steve nods and follows him. This hospital wing is the least alien-looking area that he's seen on Alfheim so far. The tech and the smells might be different, but Steve spent a lot of his early life in hospitals and they all feel the same.

Tony is a tiny figure in a big, white bed. There's a soft-looking fabric cuff around his left wrist that seems to be feeding information straight into an electronic display set in the wall, but no other medical machines that Steve can see.

"Cap?" Tony calls from the bed and Steve forces himself forward. He sets Phil down and heads over to Tony.

"Hey," he says, sitting down carefully on the edge of Tony's bed, "how are you feeling?"

Tony shrugs. "Tired," he says. He makes a pained face and pokes at his chest. "I think it's broken. Are they going to get me a new one?"

"Yes," Steve says without thinking about it then, as that sinks in, " _Yes_. We're going to get in touch with Doctor Bruce and see if he can make one that works better for you."

"I'll call him," Clint promises and disappears from the room, taking Phil with him.

Tony yawns, rolling onto his side and blinking up at Steve. "I'm going to sleep," he announces. "You don't have to stay."

Steve ignores him and leans back against the empty side of the bed. "I know," he says, "but I want to." He doesn't know what he's going to do exactly, but he's been the sick kid in a too-big bed; he's not going to leave Tony to face that alone.

Tony doesn't answer and, when Steve looks over, he finds that he's already asleep, skin a horrible white-grey. 

Steve reaches over and makes sure that the blankets are tucked in securely around his shoulders and can't help lingering, pressing his fingers lightly to Tony's throat to check his pulse. It's slow, he thinks, but at least it's steady.

***

Bruce arrives quickly, politely bustling Steve out of the room and locking himself away with Tony and Tony’s doctor. 

Steve finds Clint in the waiting area, sitting awkwardly on a wide wooden chair with Phil fast asleep against his side.

"Well?" Clint asks. His arm is around Phil's shoulders, as though he's trying to protect him from anything that might come at him. Steve wishes there was a way to do that for Tony.

"I don't know," Steve says heavily. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. It's been an impossibly long day.

"Bruce'll fix him," Clint says confidently. "Natasha'll kick his ass if he doesn't."

"I didn't think Natasha liked Stark," Steve says. Not that it matters. He just wants someone to distract him.

"No, she does," Clint says with certainty. "When she and Phil came back from California, they spent days bitching about Stark but it was pretty obvious that they liked him, really. I was surprised because neither of them like people all that easily."

"And you?" Steve asks. He’s realising he actually has very little idea how the other Avengers feel about Stark, beyond the camaraderie left over from the fight against the Chitauri. Somewhere in the back of his head, he assumed that the team put up with Stark because he housed them and made them decent tech.

"Yeah, sure." Clint shrugs. "He's an asshole but so am I, so."

It looks like Steve couldn't have been more wrong.

"Dr Banner likes him too," he says. "And the Hulk loves him."

"Yep." Clint reaches around Phil and smacks Steve on the shoulder. "You’re the only one who's got a problem with him, buddy, sorry."

"I don't have a problem with him," Steve lies. Then he feels bad about lying. "I don't have a problem with Tony."

"That's because he's four," Clint says. "How shitty would it be for Captain America to resent a four-year-old?"

Steve swallows. "Being jerks to each other is just how we communicate," he says, wondering if it's true.

Clint shrugs. "Sure. It's kind of hard to know how to talk to people who are really decent, you know? Took me years to be anything but a shit to Coulson." 

"Tony and I aren’t like you and Coulson," Steve protests, but he doesn't sound convincing to his own ears.

There's a cough from the doorway. 

"It's not good," Bruce says, walking in and closing the door behind himself. He looks very grim. "Tony has spare arc reactors, obviously, but there's no way his body, as it is right now, could cope with that much power." He wrings his hands. "He doesn't have much time, definitely not enough time for me to work out how to build an even smaller reactor from scratch. The one he has is a masterpiece of engineering; half of it shouldn’t even be possible."

"Right." Steve stands up. "Stay here, I'm going to talk to the Queen."

"Want us to come with you?" Clint asks.

"No." Steve squares his shoulders. "I've got this."

***

"Captain Rogers," Queen Alfdis says, standing up when Steve storms into the room. "How is - ?" 

"Ma'am," Steve says, bowing but not stopping his forward stride to do it. "You need to reverse it. Now."

The Queen folds her hands together, looking far too calm. "We cannot, Captain, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Steve tells her. "Put him back in your machine and put him back in his body before he dies."

The Queen blinks. "Is that what will happen?" she asks. "In that case, I'm truly sorry."

Steve shakes his head, frustrated. "Ma'am, I understand that - " 

"No," Queen Alfdis tells him. "You do not. I cannot reverse the age ray. It’s impossible."

Steve stares at her. "That's crazy," he says and doesn't both to add an apologetic _ma'am_ because he isn't sorry. This is bullshit. "What are we supposed to do, then? Watch him die?"

The Queen ignores the questions. "If there is anything we can do to make up for this, you need only ask. I know that Director Fury is interested in our power generating - " 

"No," Steve tells her, appalled. "No, you can't exchange someone's _life_ for tech." Especially not tech that Fury will probably use to have another go at making weapons of mass destruction. “You will fix this, or you’ll have a diplomatic problem on your hands that you have no hope of containing.” A very angry, Avengers-shaped diplomatic problem.

"Captain, this is our law," the Queen says. 

"Wait,” Steve demands, latching onto that like a lifeline. “You can’t reverse it because of your laws or because the technology doesn’t work that way?" Hell, it _is_ a lifeline. Tony's life. The idea of Tony dying, of _watching_ Tony die, is unbearable. 

“It is impossible,” the Queen tells him, which doesn’t answer his question.

“Then we’ll take him home,” Steve tells her. “Maybe there’s something our doctors can – ”

“I’m sorry Captain, but no.” The Queen’s face has set into more serious lines. “You seem to forget that Mr Stark is being punished. The punishment must be carried out on Alfheim soil.”

Steve clenches his fists, frustrated beyond measure. He doesn’t have time for this.

“You know what?” he says. “We came here because the Asgardians told us you would be worthy allies for us. Do you really think we want to ally ourselves to someone who’d let a child die?”

He turns on his heel, half hoping that she’ll call him back, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say a word as he marches out. 

This is why Steve hates diplomacy; he has never been able to countenance the idea of any alliance being more important than the lives of real people.

***

“Well?” Clint asks, looking up when Steve shoves his way back into the room. 

Phil is curled up asleep on the seat beside Clint and Bruce has disappeared somewhere, presumably back to Tony.

Steve shakes his head, partly because he isn’t sure Phil isn’t only pretending to be asleep and partly because he can’t make himself say it. 

“No good, huh?” Clint asks. 

“We’re not even allowed to take them off the planet,” Steve tells him, breathing out hard to keep his tone even. 

Clint’s eyebrows shoot up. “The fuck?” he demands. “What does she want us to do?”

Steve sinks down onto the chair, careful not to jostle Phil awake. “I have no damn clue,” he tells him.

Clint leans forward. “I know Phil said we have no chance of making a break for it, but. D’you want to try, anyway?”

Steve opens his mouth to say yes, because yes, he does. He’s a tactician but he’s also a soldier and sometimes violence is the only way of solving things even if he’d rather it wasn’t.

“Guys,” Bruce says, slipping into the room, closely followed by the doctor from earlier. Very closely, actually, and Steve and Clint both stand up immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Steve demands. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.” Bruce holds up a finger. “Maybe. Yet.”

“I can fix your friends,” the doctor tells them, walking further into the room.

“What?” Steve asks. “Ma’am? But the Queen – ”

The doctor’s eyes narrow angrily. “The Queen puts too much stock in showing our power and not enough in showing our compassion. I can’t change her mind but I can help you.”

“What’ll they do to you?” Clint asks, looking at her thoughtfully. “If they find out?”

The doctor shrugs one shoulder. “Would you like my help?”

“What’s your name?” Steve asks her. “Sorry. I should have asked.”

“Bodil,” she tells him quickly, as though that’s unimportant. Steve thinks that it’s very important. If she’s going to help them and risk her life, she deserves to have her name known.

Steve holds out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he tells her seriously.

She gives him the look that people have always given him when they don’t know what to do with his earnestness, regardless of the century or dimension. She does shake his hand, though, which is all he wanted.

“Come on, then,” she says. “We need to go to my workroom.” She glances down at Phil. “Bring that one too, but _don’t_ look suspicious.”

Steve isn’t sure how they’re going to manage that. They’re three grown men and one sleepy kid walking the corridors of an alien hospital and Bruce is getting twitchier by the minute.

“Are you all right?” Steve asks him quietly, while Clint is shaking Phil awake and then hefting him up into his arms anyway.

“Do you mean am I about to be replaced by a larger, greener version of myself?” Bruce asks, arching an eyebrow.

Steve shrugs. That both is and isn’t what he means.

Bruce smiles at him. “I don’t think so; I’ll try to let you know if it looks likely.” 

“I’d appreciate that,” Steve tells him.

Dr Bodil clears her throat. “Mr Barton, come with me. Captain Rogers, Doctor Banner, follow us in five minutes. It’s the fifth door along after the viewing platform in the East Wing. Don’t be seen.”

She sweeps out, Clint and Phil following her. Steve and Bruce glance at each other.

“Oh goody,” Bruce says faintly, “subterfuge.”

***

Steve has learned, since waking up, that of the people who remember Captain America, most have forgotten the Howling Commandos were a covert strike force. They remember the War Bond campaign and they know about the final battle with Red Skull, but no one seems to realise that he fought undercover in occupied Europe as well. 

Steve knows how to get from A to B without being seen. He even knows how to do it while being trailed by a nervous civilian.

They slip in through an open casement window from the inner courtyard, two rooms down from Bodil’s room and Steve holds up his hand quickly, stopping Bruce from stepping out of the shadows.

Bruce rolls his eyes. “I know how to hide, Steve,” he whispers, barely a sound at all.

Steve grimaces; of course he does. 

The corridor is empty, no footprints approaching, so Steve steps forwards, Bruce at his heels as they stride purposefully to what Steve is praying is the right door, and let themselves in without stopping to knock.

Phil and Clint look up when the door closes with a slight click but Bodil keeps working on what looks like some kind of experiment, pouring dark liquids from one light brown beaker to another.

“Hi,” Phil says, waving. He’s sitting on a lab bench, listing slightly sideways. He’s been awake half the night; he must be exhausted.

“Hey.” While Bruce goes to talk to Bodil, Steve walks over to the bench, standing next to Clint, with Phil in between them. “How’s it going?”

Clint shakes his head. “No clue. We got stood over here and told to stay put.”

Bruce and Bodil are talking quietly but quickly, Bodil pointing at one thing then another while Bruce nods rapidly.

“Let’s take that as a good sign,” Steve tells Clint.

Clint snorts. “Cap, you’re a goddamn optimist.”

“Sometimes,” Steve agrees but can’t think of anything else to say after that so falls silent. After a second, Phil leans over and rests his head heavily on Steve’s shoulder.

***

It takes about an hour for Bodil to brew something but only half that for Bruce to understand enough of her science to start contributing. Phil snoozes and Clint stands very still while Steve watches everything closely and tries to stop himself from hoping. 

Eventually, Bodil and Bruce both stand back. “It’s as good as I can make it,” she tells him and he nods, taking a beaker of blue-violet liquid from her.

“What’s happening?” Steve asks. 

He’s so eager to know what’s going on that he steps forward without thinking, making Phil wake with a startled sound and Clint to snap, “Hey, Cap, careful.”

Steve turns around, holding his hands up. “Sorry, sorry. Phil, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Phil nods. Clint still has his hands on Phil’s shoulders, squeezing tight. Phil looks delighted.

“We’re ready,” Bruce tells them, “but um, listen. No, wait, Phil, will you put your fingers in your ears?”

“No,” Phil says, sounding deeply offended. “I want to know too.”

Bruce widens his eyes at Steve. Steve frowns but, “Please, Phil?” he asks.

Phil sighs. “Okay,” he agrees, not looking any happier about it. It makes sense, Steve supposes: as an adult, Phil likes to know everything, too.

“Hey,” Clint says to him, “how about we go…” He looks around the fairly small room, clearly looking for inspiration. “Go look out that window over there?”

Phil slides off the table. “I know you’re trying to distract me,” he tells Clint wisely but he still leads the way to the window on the opposite side of the room.

As soon as he’s reasonably sure Phil’s out of earshot, Steve turns back to Bruce and Bodil, lowering his voice to a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

It’s Bodil who answers. “This medicine has never been tried. We rarely punish people by returning their youth; usually we take it away or have them killed outright. I started putting together a formula for a reversal just in case, but I wasn’t expecting to use it yet.”

“So it’s experimental?” Steve asks. “What might it do to them?”

She spreads her hands. “Hopefully nothing but what we intend, but Tony is much weaker than Phil; I wouldn’t like to try this process on him without having had a chance to study its affects first.”

“You want Phil to be the guinea pig?” Steve guesses. It’s a new experience for Steve: he’s not usually the one throwing around confusing idioms. “You want to test it on him first?”

“Yes.” Bodil looks very calm but it’s the little wince of genuine sympathy when she glances over at Phil that makes Steve feel better about this.

“Bruce?” Steve asks. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Bodil, but he knows Bruce.

“I’m not a biologist but it looks sound. I think it’s our best shot given the time constraints,” Bruce tells him. He’s drumming his fingers against the beaker but he doesn’t look uncertain, just anxious.

Steve is glad about that; he’d probably go with it anyway, but he’s glad Bruce agrees; he doesn’t want to make this decision alone.

“Okay.” Steve nods. “It’s not just our call, though.” He waves Clint and Phil back over and they come quickly. Clint looks worried but Phil just looks curious.

Steve knows that he has no hope of persuading Clint that this is a good plan, so he goes straight to Phil. Maybe that’s unethical of him, but they’re on the clock.

"Will it help Tony?" Phil asks seriously once Steve's explained what they'd like him to do.

"I hope so," Steve tells him honestly. "But you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Phil closes his eyes for a second then nods firmly. "Okay," he says. "I'll do it."

Steve is so relieved, he wants to give Phil a hug. Since, if this plan works, Phil will be an adult again soon, he resists.

"Thank you," he says again. "That's really brave of you, Phil."

Phil goes pink and mumbles something at the floor that Steve doesn't think he's supposed to catch. "Are we doing it now?" Phil asks, squeezing his hands together.

"Yes," Steve tells him. "But it'll be fine, okay? You just need to drink it and it might taste gross but we’ll find you some candy or something for after."

"Like in Alice in Wonderland?" Phil asks suspiciously.

Steve can't help laughing. "I promise it won’t make you shrink." It will hopefully make him grow, but Steve doesn’t mention that.

"Okay." Phil curls his hand in Steve’s sleeve, which tells Steve that he's nervous; he hasn’t done that since he was first de-aged. "I'm ready."

“Phil,” Clint says, looking daggers at Steve. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? Just because Captain America wants - ”

Phil tips his chin up. “It’ll help Tony,” he says firmly. “I want to help.”

Clint sighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, turning away. He turns back around a second later and picks Phil up, probably – Steve suspects – just to be able to hold him for a second, and puts him back on the bench. 

Bruce approaches cautiously. “Ready?” he asks, exchanging a look with Bodil who nods.

Phil takes the beaker with fingers that are trembling slightly but he tsks when both Clint and Steve reach out to help him. 

He makes a face after the first sip, nose and mouth wrinkling up. “That’s gross,” he tells them then goes back to drinking.

“All of it, please,” Bodil tells him gently.

Phil nods while drinking and a dribble of the concoction runs down his chin. He gets the rest of it down though, handing the beaker back to Bruce with a truly betrayed expression.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks anxiously. 

“Like I’m going to throw up,” Phil tells him and he does look kind of pale. 

Steve steps forward but Clint gets there first, jumping up to sit next to Phil and rubbing his back awkwardly.

Everyone’s watching Phil very closely even though Steve, personally, has no idea what they’re expecting to happen. Is he just suddenly going to bloom into an adult man again while they watch? 

“Oh,” Phil says, rubbing his forehead. He reaches out with his other hand, clutching Clint’s thigh. “Dizzy.”

“Hey, you okay?” Clint asks. “Phil?”

Phil slumps, falling against Clint’s side, his eyes closed and skin far too pale.

“What’s happening?” Clint demands, fixing the full force of his Agent of SHIELD glare on Bodil.

“It’s fine,” Bodil says quickly, bringing up a small, handheld box-like machine and holding it to Phil’s neck. It beeps after a second and she nods. “His blood pressure and breathing are fine. I suspect his body is just… powering down a little prior to transformation.”

“That better be it,” Clint tells her, helping Phil to lie down so his head and shoulders are on Clint’s thighs. “How long?”

Bodil shakes her head. “I do not know that. We will just have to wait. It shouldn’t be very long, but you don’t have to - ”

“I’m staying,” Clint tells her.

“We’re all staying,” Steve agrees but Bruce shakes his head. 

“No, one of us should be with Tony,” Bruce says. “He’s been alone a couple of hours now and you know he doesn’t do well with that.”

“Right, you’re right.” Steve nods. “Do you want to go?”

“It should be you,” Bruce tells him. Clint looks up long enough from staring anxiously down at Phil to nod his agreement.

“Okay,” Steve agrees, not happy to leave Phil at all, but someone does need to be with Tony. Why they think he’s the best choice for the job, he has no idea. “If anything – ”

“I’ll come get you,” Bruce promises.

Steve shoots one more worried, guilty look at Phil’s sleeping face then lets himself out of the lab. 

He’s so preoccupied that he only remembers to be careful not to be seen at the last second. He’s almost sure that a passing nurse must see him, but he doesn’t react, so Steve doesn’t worry about it.

***

At least Steve doesn’t have to make a secret of visiting Tony. He nods to every doctor he passes, making sure they think he’s been here, nowhere else, then pushes open the door to Tony’s room. 

"It's really boring in here," Tony tells him immediately, no stopping to say hi or anything first. He looks worse than he did when Steve was last here but he's still sitting up, tapping tiredly at a StarkTab.

"You had lots of doctors to talk to, didn't you?" Steve asks, trying not to look like he’s searching Tony’s face for any signs that he’s getting sicker.

Tony shrugs. "Sure, but they’re not you," he says, really quick and without looking Steve's way.

Steve doesn't know what to say to that. He sits down next to Tony and leans in to see what he's doing on the tablet. 

"Is that a robot?" he asks, looking at the unevenly drawn schematics for something that looks a lot like Dummy. 

"Maybe," Tony says, biting his lower lip in concentration. His mouth wobbles as he tries to hold back a yawn, but it escapes anyway. "I'm trying to make it work but I keep falling asleep."

The way he says it, so simple, breaks Steve's heart, because it's obvious he has no idea why he's so tired.

"What's it going to do?" Steve asks, forcing his voice to stay level.

Tony yawns again. The hand holding the tablet starts to shake and he drops the tablet onto his knees.

"It's going to help people," Tony tells him, lowering his voice like it’s a secret. "When like, when people are old or sick and can't get stuff for themselves? It's going to help."

"Oh." Steve wonders if that's what the original Dummy was built for too. "That's real nice of you."

Tony shrugs. "Being sick sucks."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, "it does." He takes the tablet away from Tony and lies down, pulling Tony over to lie down too.

Tony settles against Steve's chest with a grumble, but he muffles another yawn in Steve's shirt almost immediately. 

"I was sick all the time when I was a kid," Steve tells the ceiling. It's whitewashed and boring; they might be on a different planet but some things never change.

"But you're Captain America," Tony says, sounding confused. "How did you get better?"

"Um." Steve tries to think of an easy answer, finds that he does actually have one. "Your dad fixed me. And some other people helped, too." He doesn’t know if explaining about Doctor Erskine would be too much for a kid but it’s too much for _him_ right now. 

"Oh," Tony says softly. 

"Tony?" Steve prompts when he doesn't say anything else.

"He can't fix me," Tony says, barely audible. "He's never around."

Howard was Steve's friend, but right now Steve wants to punch him in the eye. 

"He loves you very much," Steve tells him, because it has to be true. Howard was arrogant and impatient but he was a good man.

Tony shakes his head. “He’s always off looking for you,” he says quietly, like a confession.

Steve blinks. “He’s… Is he?” Tony doesn’t answer so Steve puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking his gently. “Tony? Is that why you don’t like me?”

Tony peeks up at him. His eyes are red. “I _do_ like you,” he says quickly. “I didn’t, but I do _now_.”

Steve blows out a breath. It isn’t his fault that Howard decided to neglect his family for an impossible quest, but it sure feels like it is.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally.

"Whatever," Tony says, but he presses his face further into Steve's shirt, fist bunching in the fabric.

Steve lays a hand on the back of Tony's neck, ruffling his hair a little. He never had a father, and he always knew his mother loved him, so he isn't sure what to say to make Tony feel better.

Before he can think of anything, Tony throws a skinny, surprisingly heavy, arm across his stomach and pats his chest. "Nap time," he tells Steve imperiously.

"For you or for me?" Steve asks, letting his smile slip into his voice.

"For everyone," Tony mumbles.

That doesn't sound like a bad plan, Steve decides, and closes his eyes. He makes sure that Tony falls asleep before he does, but he isn't far behind.

***

"That is seriously fucking adorable," Steve hears. "Anyone got a camera?" 

"Shh, Barton, you'll wake them up," Steve hears next and that voice is enough to get him rushing to sit up before he's fully awake.

Phil Coulson, fully grown and very amused, smirks down at him. "Good morning, Captain."

Steve checks that Tony's still sleep then practically spills out of the bed. It's not very dignified, but Steve is too relieved for dignity. "It worked?" he asks. "Thank God."

"No," Coulson says gently, "thank Doctor Bodil." 

Steve blows out a breath, face aching with the force of his smile. “Yes, yeah, definitely. That, too. How are you feeling?” 

“Fine.” Coulson shrugs. “If there are any lasting effects of the change, they’re not apparent yet.”

“So we can - ?” Steve nods his head at Tony.

Coulson nods. “We think it’s worth trying. Doctor Banner is helping Doctor Bodil brew up another batch; he’ll smuggle it along as soon as it’s ready.”

Steve is too nervous to be relieved just yet, but at least there’s hope. “How did you get here? Did anyone see you?” he asks. Then he takes a proper look at Coulson for the first time and sees that he’s wearing white Alfheim robes.

“They saw me, but they didn’t recognise me,” Coulson tells him blandly. 

Clint laughs. “That’s Phil’s superpower,” he says, “no one ever knows he’s there.”

“Until it’s too late,” Coulson agrees dryly. "Speaking of which, I'm a child for a few days and I come back to find you on the brink of starting a diplomatic incident? Really, Captain?"

Steve winces. “They weren’t listening to reason; what else could I do?”

“Nothing,” Coulson tells him, “I’m not disagreeing with your choices, just quietly dreading the meeting where I explain this to Director Fury.”

Steve looks down at the bed where Tony's still sleeping, curled in on himself with a tiny frown between his eyes. There's sweat along his hairline and he's still far too pale, twitching in his sleep like he's uncomfortable.

"Did they say how long they were going to be?" Steve asks, trying not to sound as anxious as he feels.

“No, but they said they’d hurry.” Coulson’s eyes drop to Tony and he steps toward the bed. “How is he?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Coulson’s hand twitches at his side, before he tucks it away in his pocket as though no one will have noticed that he might want to touch Tony. “I remember everything that happened although it already feels a long time ago.”

Clint steps up beside him, knocking their shoulders. “Fuck, really? Stark is going to be such an asshole when we get him back then.”

Steve finds himself starting to defend Tony before he really thinks about. Usually, he’s the last to do that.

There’s a sudden rattle from the corridor and they all freeze. “Captain Rogers,” an unfamiliar voice calls, followed quickly by the Queen’s voice snapping, “Open this door.”

“Shit,” Clint breathes, pulling his pistol from its holster and starting toward the door.

“Clint,” Steve hisses. “We’re not shooting anyone.”

Clint fits himself behind the doorframe before turning and raising his eyebrows at Steve. “If they try and hurt Tony or Phil then hell yes I’m shooting them.”

That seems reasonable so Steve doesn’t argue. The rattling and raised voices are getting louder. Steve doesn’t know if anyone has a master key to the door but if they do, Coulson needs to be long gone.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he calls loudly, “the door’s stuck.”

“Captain – ”

“Two seconds,” he promises, looking around frantically. The only closet in the room is too small to fit a grown man and not very secure anyway. The only other choice is the window. Luckily, it’s one that leads into the central courtyard not out into space. Unluckily, it’s easily a sixty feet drop.

Coulson follows Steve’s line of sight and sighs. “This is definitely not what my doctors had in mind,” he says, grimacing, then cracks the window open and steps out onto the ledge. “Barton?”

“Coming, sir.” Clint shoots another murderous look at the door then steps out after Coulson. Coulson is moving along the ledge with more confidence than Steve would have suspected and Clint, naturally, just looks as though he’s taking a stroll on the sidewalk.

“Go get Bruce and the doctor,” Steve tells them quietly, “I’m not sure how much time I can buy us.”

“Got it,” Clint agrees and then he’s swinging himself up, catching the window ledge above and hoisting himself up. After a couple of seconds, his hand reappears, grabs Coulson’s and Coulson braces a foot against the window before he’s gone too.

Steve gives them another ten-second head start then hurries to open the door.

“Sorry,” he says, giving the Queen his best smile. She doesn’t look mollified. “Something weird with the lock.”

Her eyes sweep around the room suspiciously, stopping on the open window. “Were you warm?”

It’s cold in the room with the window open, a rush of cool air rolling in from the atrium. “Tony got too hot,” Steve lies, which is reasonably plausible, he hopes.

She looks down at Tony, who’s still sleeping, although he’s rolled away, his back turned toward all people disturbing his sleep.

“I had a strange report from one of the nurses who said you’ve been spending time with Bodil,” the Queen tells him, expression very bland.

Steve doesn’t have as good a poker face as she does, but he’s learned a thing or two from some champion bullshitters in his time.

“She’s Tony’s doctor,” he says, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, as innocent and confused as he can make his expression be. “I keep hoping maybe there’s something I can do to help.”

“I’m sure Bodil is doing everything possible for him,” the Queen tells him. She doesn’t look at Tony this time, like it’s easier to make herself lie if she can forget it’s a real kid she’s killing.

“I’m sure of that too,” Steve agrees. He is sure of that, much surer than the Queen is, but he doesn’t know if it’s going to be enough, especially not if people are getting suspicious.

“Steve?” Tony asks from the bed, sounding confused.

“Excuse me,” Steve says, turning his back on the Queen and going over to Tony. Tony’s sitting up, rubbing at the edge of his reactor. “What’s up?”

Tony shakes his head, looking blurry and confused. “It really hurts,” he tells Steve, lowering his voice as though he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

There’s nothing Steve can do and he can’t even reassure Tony that they have a plan because the Queen will hear. He picks Tony up instead, hefting him up against Steve’s chest so he’s sitting just above Steve’s hip, head on his shoulder.

“Hey, look, the Queen’s come to visit you,” Steve says, turning around so she can see Tony’s pale face and pinched, hurting expression. “Is that nice?”

Tony wrinkles his nose, but says, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” dutifully just like Steve expected him to. He’s learned that Howard and Maria drilled him pretty full of manners.

The Queen doesn’t look at either of them. “I’ll be on my way.” She looks to the doorway where two tall, wide-set men are standing, watching. The Queen’s bodyguards, Steve guesses, although he hasn’t seen them near her before. “But I’ll leave Fray and Garik here in case you need anything.”

Great, Steve thinks. Guards, yes, but not for the Queen.

“Ma’am, you really don’t need to,” he tries but she’s already walking away.

“I think we both know I do, Captain,” she tells him and sweeps out.

Fray and Garik watch him silently from the doorway but don’t make a move inside the room.

“I don’t like them,” Tony says in Steve’s ear. He lifts his head as though he’s going to tell them that next, so Steve quickly reaches out and pushes the door closed. 

They don’t try to stop him, obviously not realising that Avengers have an affinity for open windows, regardless of how high they are.

“I need you to do me a favour,” Steve tells Tony quietly. “I need you to get dressed and get together anything in here that you want to keep.”

Tony frowns. “Where are we going?” he whispers back.

“Home,” Steve tells him. He has no idea how they’re going to manage that, but it’s all he can think of. They need to give Tony the cure and then they need to get out of here; he no longer gives a damn about cultural relations.

“But I don’t want – ” Tony starts then closes his mouth with a snick of teeth clashing together.

Steve stops what he’s doing – standing with his back against the door, watching Tony pick up his StarkTab and clutch it protectively – and shakes his head. “We’ll all still be together,” he promises. “We just won’t be here anymore.”

Tony nods, still looking doubtful. He isn’t moving fast enough for Steve’s liking, obviously wanting to delay leaving as long as possible.

“Hey, Tony, where else would we go?” Steve asks him, trying to smile reassuringly. “We’re family.” It feels strange to say that but it doesn’t feel like a lie.

Tony mutters something but he smiles so Steve thinks he’s only pretending not to care. 

It still takes Tony longer than it should to get dressed but eventually he’s done, gadgets zipped up in his backpack. He has to sit down after that, breathing kind of hard, but Steve forces himself not to worry about that for now.

“Now what?” Tony asks, obviously trying to look alert and ready to go. He ruins it by yawning widely behind his hand.

Steve isn’t totally sure. They have two options: chance their luck against Fray and Garik, or go out the window and hope Steve can get them both to safety.

Before Steve can decide which sounds like the least terrible plan, there’s a rustle from above and then Clint drops back inside the room, nearly soundlessly.

“Hey gang,” he says. He’s out of breath. Steve is worried. “Got kind of a situation here.”

“Situation?” Steve demands, automatically stepping closer to Tony, who’s perked up enough to look interested.

“Yeah. People with guns. Other people with swords. That kind of thing. Phil’s with the doctor but Bruce got kind of, um.” He mimes _big_ with his hands.

“Angry?” Steve sighs. “Where is he?”

Clint nods his head toward the door. “Heading this way.” He holds out a hand to Tony. “Come with me, kiddo. Coming, Cap?”

Steve hesitates. But in the end, he knows he can trust Clint with Tony and someone needs to look out for Bruce. “I’ll go round up the Hulk. Where are we falling back to?”

“Roof. Phil’s got a plan. Fuck knows what it is. “Clint tells him, lifting Tony and pushing his arms through the loops on Tony’s backpack, so that Tony is awkwardly strapped to his chest. “Wrap your legs round my waist and hold on tight, okay?”

“Steve?” Tony asks, trying to reach back for him and not managing well considering the awkward angle.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Steve promises. He’s already reached out and ruffled Tony’s hair before he’s thought about it. Once he’s thought about it, he’s still glad he did it.

He can hear pounding feet now, the yells and shouts that usually mean a large, green, angry man is running through a bunch of people. Their door crashes open and either Garik or Fray comes stumbling in, closely followed by either Fray or Garik.

They take in the scene in the room and the one Steve’s decided is Garik draws a sword. 

“Go,” Steve snaps over his shoulder and punches Garik in the face.

“Yay, go Steve!” Tony yells.

Clint whoops. “Hell, yeah. What the kid said,” he agrees and then they’re gone.

Garik stumbles back a step, head snapping back with the force of Steve’s blow but Fray takes his place, rushing at Steve at full tilt. Steve waits until the tip of his blade is a hair from Steve’s stomach then jumps, twisting in the air and kicks Fray hard in the side of the head.

They both hit the ground, Fray unconscious and Steve landing hard on one knee, but he barely feels the pain, immediately looking around to see what’s happened to Garik. 

He finds him back in the doorway, staring up with an expression of terror on his face.

Steve doesn’t blame him.

“Hi, Hulk,” Steve says carefully, picking up his shield and conking Garik over the head with it before joining Hulk in the corridor. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Hulk help Tony,” Hulk tells him, pushing Steve aside with a finger against his shoulder and sticking his head into the room.

“Tony’s with Clint. He’s fine.” Steve resists rubbing at his shoulder and touches Hulk’s back instead. “Come on. Let’s go meet up with them.”

Hulk nods once and strides off. Steve breathes a sigh of relief – getting Hulk to go somewhere he doesn’t want to be is like trying to herd frogs – and jogs to catch up, shield up in case anyone else comes at them.

They’ve reached one of the castle’s tall, marble staircases before they run into any more trouble.

“There they are,” someone yells, closely followed by a hail of bullets and another voice calling for them to stop.

“Mixed messages, guys,” Steve mutters, turning around, shield in front and Hulk at his back. 

At least, that’s how he starts. Then he finds himself being picked up by the collar, set five steps up and out the way, while Hulk barrels back down the stairs at the group of guards.

One of the guards runs but the other two stand their ground, a quick burst of bullets thumps against Hulk’s chest before he swipes them both out the way. One of them twists as he falls, getting in a lucky strike with his knife.

Hulk roars at the line of blood that wells up along his arm, banging his chest angrily.

“Hulk!” Steve shouts, not wanting to lose Hulk if he decides he needs to find someone to punish for hurting him. 

Hulk turns, raising his eyebrows.

“Come here,” Steve tells him firmly.

Hulk makes a grumpy noise but does as he’s told, even standing still when Steve reaches out to check on his injury.

It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not deep so Steve pats him on the arm and quirks a grin at him. “We’ll get you a Band-Aid when we get home,” he promises. Hulk loves Band-Aids; Steve has no idea why considering he hates getting hurt.

Hulk frowns suddenly, swatting at his leg, which is when Steve realises there’s a buzzing sound coming from his pants pocket.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, reaching out cautiously.

Hulk lets him put a hand into his pocket but tries to snatch the earpiece as soon as Steve pulls it out.

“Hey, no, let me, okay?” Steve says, tucking it into his own ear. “Hello? This is Rogers.”

“Cap. It’s Widow. Where are you guys?”

“Natasha?” Steve says, holding up a hand to Hulk, asking him to stay there a second. “Where are _you_?”

“Thor and I are here in a Quinjet. Heimdall says you could use our help.”

Steve breathes out, feeling almost weak with relief for a second. That’ll work. That’ll get them home. “The others are heading for the roof. Hulk and I will be there in a minute.”

“Need me to send Thor down to you?” Natasha asks, above the whine of the engine reengaging.

Steve never likes to break up the team but since he has no idea how many more guards they’ll bump into, it might be worth the risk. 

“Yeah,” he says, “thanks.”

“Good luck. Widow out.” There’s a click and then she’s gone.

“Move?” Hulk asks Steve, obviously getting antsy.

“Move,” Steve agrees and they take the next three flights of stairs at a run. 

They’re loping across the landing, almost at the last flight when the Queen herself appears in their path. She’s holding a glowing red staff, far too reminiscent of Loki’s staff for Steve’s comfort. She looks furious.

“You will stop this at once,” she snaps at them imperiously. “You will stop harming my guards and you will leave your friends here for the duration of their punishment. If you do not do so, we will – ”

“You will do what?” Thor’s voice booms from nowhere, before he drops down the centre of the staircase and lands directly in front of her. “You cannot declare war on Earth; you cannot get there without use of the Bifrost.”

Queen Alfdis lifts her spear, pointing it straight at Thor’s chest. “No, but we can declare war on Midgard’s allies.”

Thor twirls his hammer, matching her stance. “You are welcome to try,” he tells her, jaw set.

Alfdis’s spear flashes. 

There’s a crash from behind Steve and he thinks for a second that Alfdis has shot over his shoulder, but then he sees the spear fly out of her hands and realises that the shot came from outside the tower.

Spinning around, he sees the unmistakable shape of the Quinjet hovering on the otherside of the freshly-broken window.

Natasha waves from the pilot’s seat.

“Sorry,” she calls, voice completely free of expression. “Did I do that? I’m still learning how everything works in here.”

The Queen rocks back, staring wide-eyed at the Quinjet. Steve would have thought that someone with so much familiarity with magic wouldn’t be too surprised by a flying ship, but then he hasn’t seen anything like that around here.

Or maybe it’s just the way the ‘jet’s front-mounted canon is pointed directly at her.

“Natasha,” Steve says, nodding his head.

Natasha salutes him. “Cap. Everyone else is aboard; you boys want a lift?”

Hulk is looking distinctly dubious about the ‘jet but Steve has definitely had enough of this planet to last him a lifetime.

“Your Majesty,” he says, stepping back so that he’s shoulder to barrel with canon, “we didn’t come here with the intention of causing trouble and I’m sorry if this affects your relationship with Asgard. But your actions are killing a member of my team and, since you’ve refused to help, we have no other choice. Now, we’re leaving. Either you stand back and let us go or we’ll make you.”

He hates threatening women – even though he knows Natasha would be angry with him for thinking that – but doesn’t see what other options they have.

Her jaw tightens angrily, hands balling into fists but she’s not armed anymore and, even if she were, she’d be hopelessly outgunned, so she has no choice but to stand down.

“This will not be forgotten,” she calls after them as Natasha swings the ‘jet around to open the back door and Steve catches hold of the side of the hull.

They don’t answer her. Well, Hulk mutters a bit but Steve thinks they still manage to maintain a pretty dignified exit.

***

It’s tough fitting all eight of them into the Quinjet, especially when one of them is still Hulk-sized, but they manage it, Natasha taking off as soon as the hatch is closed. 

Hulk sits down on the floor just inside the jet, poking crossly at the cut on his arm, which is already scabbing over.

“Who’s that?” Tony hisses in a loud whisper. He’s sitting wedged between Clint and Coulson, swinging his legs, which come nowhere near touching the floor.

Hulk looks up, showing all his teeth in a wide grin. “Tony!” he says, lumbering up onto his knees as though preparing to stand up. “Tony well?”

“Hey, buddy, sit down, you’re rocking the boat,” Clint tells him and Hulk sinks back down, still staring at Tony expectantly.

“Yes?” Tony says slowly. He wriggles out of his seat, standing up, but still shooting Steve a confused look.

“This is Doctor Banner,” Steve tells him, since that’s technically true and it’s the easiest explanation. “This is his superpower.”

“Oh,” breathes Tony, dropping down onto his knees. “That’s really cool. How does it work?”

He’s asking Hulk, reaching out to poke him in the bicep. Hulk doesn’t answer but he doesn’t bat Tony away either, instead shifting down lower so Tony can reach more easily.

“That is so gosh darn adorable,” Clint says, pulling out his cell. He snaps a couple of pictures then frowns, looking over at Coulson. “Sir? I was expecting you to tell me not to take pictures. Are you slipping in your old age?”

“No.” Coulson finally snatches the phone away from him, scrolling through the pictures and tipping one over for Steve to see. “That _is_ adorable. And Stark will be embarrassed when he sees them.”

"Um," Clint says, leaning into Coulson conspiratorially but not lowering his voice at all. "You know you got to hold Cap's shield when you were a baby right? I took pictures of that too. So many pictures; you gonna love it."

Coulson glares. “Where?” he demands, pulling the phone closer.

“Yeah.” Clint laughs. “I already backed them up; there’s no way you’re taking that moment away from me.” 

Steve smiles at them, relieved by how much more cheerful Clint seems now that they’ve got Coulson back. He turns away, leaving them to it and making his way over to Doctor Bodil, who’s sitting next to Natasha in the co-pilot seat.

“Ma’am,” he says, nodding at her. “Are you coming back with us?”

She looks out of the windshield, down at the city below. “It looks that way,” she says regretfully, “I don’t think there’s anything left for me here.”

“SHIELD will be lucky to have you,” Steve tells her, meaning it. To Natasha, he adds, “Is the Bifrost open?”

“Heimdall promised it would be,” she tells him.

He nods. “Put your foot down, then. I want to get out of here.”

“Way ahead of you, Cap,” she says and takes a hard left, the horizon filling with bright rainbow-coloured light and the jet bouncing slightly when the bottom just skims the bridge.

***

It’s late when they’re finally allowed home to the Tower. Steve and the others debriefed with Fury while Bruce and Bodil took over a lab and finished working on the cure for Tony. 

Tony’s been asleep since they gave it to him. Steve is trying not to panic. After all, it took time with Coulson, too.

“Captain?” Coulson asks and Steve realises he’s been standing in the middle of Tony’s bedroom, just staring down at him since they put him to bed.

“Sorry.” Steve shakes his head. “Did you say something?”

Coulson looks at him closely. “Nothing important. Are you okay?”

Steve nods sharply. “Yes. Yes, fine. I just hate waiting.”

Coulson pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. “I can understand that. Are you going to stay with him?”

Steve can’t imagine leaving. “Yes.” 

Coulson leans in. “One word of advice. When Stark wakes up fully-grown, make sure he’s wearing something stretchable. That was… not a comfortable experience.”

Startled, Steve laughs. He suspects that was Coulson’s plan but he also appreciates the surety in Coulson’s voice when he says _when_ Tony wakes up.

“I’ll remember that,” Steve promises. “Thanks.”

Coulson nods briskly. "We’re going to bed now. Call us if anything happens," he says.

Steve nods. "I will. And Ph- Agent Coulson?"

"Phil's fine," Coulson tells him, casually.

Steve smiles at him. "I was just going to say it’s good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," Phil says then clears his throat as though hoping that will distract from the way his cheeks have pinked up. He jerks his thumb at the door. "I need to. Go."

“Sure,” Steve agrees, smiling.

He manages to keep his smile in place when he looks back at Tony, telling himself to believe that he's going to be fine. Steve has watched too many people die; someone has to buck the trend and he's willing it to be Tony.

"Tony?" he asks softly, putting his hand on Tony's shoulder.

Tony stirs slightly, rolling onto his side so he's facing Steve and mumbling something under his breath. 

Remembering what Coulson says, Steve carefully picks Tony out of bed and changes him quickly into the Black Sabbath t-shirt that his adult self has worn so much it’s washed thin and soft. 

It still smells of Stark’s aftershave, which is a weird thing for Steve to notice and clearly a sign that the stress has started to get to him. 

It's dark in the room and, if there's nothing Steve can do but wait, he might as well be comfortable and closer to Tony, in case he's needed.

He lies down on the bed, telling himself that it's only to reassure Tony. The hand that he can't help laying over Tony's arc reactor or the way he counts Tony's heartbeats, however, are definitely to reassure Steve.

***

Steve wakes up when someone swears and jabs him in the face. 

"Fuck's sake, how can someone who was an icicle for a million years run so hot?"

"Sorry," Steve mumbles, automatically withdrawing his arm from the broad chest it’s wrapped around and shifting back to put a little space between their bodies.

Then his eyes snap open.

"Tony," he says, staring across the bed at a fully-grown, fully-grinning Tony Stark. "I mean." He clears his throat. "Stark."

Stark laughs without making any noise, eyes lighting up like Steve is hilarious when sleep befuddled and joyously, confusedly happy.

"Good morning, Captain," he says. "Sleep well?"

"I." Steve shakes his head, sits up and looks at Stark properly. "Are you all right?" he asks, finally waking up. "Did it work?"

"I'm not totally sure why I wasn't okay," Stark tells him, "because you didn't bother to explain it to me when I was four, and I kind of couldn't be bothered to get out of bed to find anyone to talk to when I woke up, but yeah? I think it worked."

Steve is suddenly, embarrassingly overwhelmed with relief. "That's, that's good," he says and makes a show of untangling his legs from the comforter so he doesn't have to look at Stark for a minute.

"Cap?" Stark asks, dropping some of the ever-present snark.

"Steve," Steve says stupidly, because it's something he's been thinking about, "you should call me Steve."

When Steve chances looking at him, Stark looks startled but pleased. "Sure," he says slowly, "that sounds fun. _Steve_."

Steve shakes his head at him, unable to hold back a smile, despite how annoying Stark still is. "You're supposed to say that I can call you Tony."

Stark smirks at him. "I don't know, my butler told me never to call strange men by their first names. Especially when I wake up and find them getting overly familiar with my arc reactor."

"Your butler?" Steve asks, ignoring the rest for his own sanity. Then he remembers Tony asking for JARVIS his first night as a four-year-old. "Wait, JARVIS is named after your butler?"

Tony opens his mouth, probably to dissemble some more, before he abruptly changes his mind and says, "Yeah," instead. "He basically raised me."

Steve doesn't say anything to that, because he can't exactly tell a forty-two-year-old that he's sure his daddy loved him too, the same way he could a four-year-old.

"Right." Stark clears his throat and starts his own process of getting free of the sheets. He rubs at his arc reactor, making Steve's heart stop in his chest for a second, before scratching the skin around it and saying, "Huh, my skin feels _stretched_. Weird. I've got to get Bruce to analyse this re-aging shit."

Steve watches him wander around the room, apparently unconcerned that he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt that barely covers his behind and no boxers, until he starts to feel more than a little creepy.

"There are clothes - " He stops. Obviously Stark knows there are clothes in the closet; it’s _his_ closet.

"Am I making you uncomfortable," Stark asks, opening the drawer and starting to rummage. "Does my nakedness offend you, _Steve_?"

Steve looks away while Stark gets dressed, feeling his mind whir around now-useless thoughts. Stark's well again now and he's an adult; Steve can't remember what it felt like not to be worrying about him constantly, but it looks like he's going to have to relearn.

"You look like someone cancelled Christmas," Stark says, appearing suddenly in front of him. 

He's wearing a pair of jeans now, thank god but he’s kept on the t-shirt Steve picked out for him. For some reason, that gives Steve the confidence to say, "We should get a coffee or something, when you have some free time."

Stark blinks. Steve imagines all the replies that he could be coming up with, from gently mocking to genuinely cutting.

"All right," Stark says, surprising Steve with the complete absence of mockery, "sure. That'd be. Yeah."

Steve shouldn't be this pleased, he knows that, but he can't help smiling way too wide back at Stark.

After a minute, Stark clears his throat. "Not just yet though, okay? I've gotta talk to that doctor woman first, find out what the fuck kind of tech they’ve got over there if they can just casually go around turning people into infants." 

"Tony," Steve sighs, "please. We’ve already caused enough diplomatic incidents for this week."

The smile that Stark throws his way isn't at all reassuring. "Oh, you know me, Cap. _Steve_. I'm the Lord Grand Master of diplomacy."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Steve agrees, kicking the comforter back and standing up. He turns around to see Stark heading for the door. "Wait. I'm coming with you."

"Catch me, then," Stark calls back over his shoulder and disappears into the corridor.

In the privacy of the empty room, Steve swears and quickly shoves his feet into his shoes. It looks as though life is back to normal with Stark causing trouble and giving Steve impossible ulcers from the stress. 

For the first time, though, Steve can honestly say that he doesn't mind all that much.

/End

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to check out davincis_girl's [amazing art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/501580) which inspired this fic!


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